


An Unexpected Journey (Again)

by Daisy Took (phoenixdaisy)



Series: There Again (and Hopefully Not Back This Time) [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bilbo Baggins, Shire Politics, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling Bilbo Baggins, Time Travelling Thorin, at least in the first couple chapters, correcting homophobic language, established relationship (kinda)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixdaisy/pseuds/Daisy%20Took
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo goes to sleep on the ship to Valinor, and wakes up eighty-one years earlier in Bag End. With seven months to prepare this time, Bilbo sets his affairs in order in Hobbiton before the wizard can spring a baker's dozen of dwarrow on him.</p><p>
  <b>Unfortunately, this fic is currently on indefinite hiatus. It's been roughly two and a half years since I've written for it, and despite a few false starts over the past eighteen months I still haven't managed to pick it up again.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking in the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Epic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/972440) by [bubbysbub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbysbub/pseuds/bubbysbub). 
  * Inspired by [Ere Break of Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4255041) by [squire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squire/pseuds/squire). 
  * Inspired by [Dead Until Proven Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199016) by [chrystal896](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystal896/pseuds/chrystal896). 



> Please note that all "Inspired by" fics are listed when they gave me a very particular idea, and are more along the lines of potential fic recs. Also, the idea they gave me may not be the main idea of the fic. Even so, you may find them enjoyable, so check them out!
> 
> I'm using mostly movie canon for my basis, but there will be a handful of book references as well.
> 
> Also, a note on the calendar: I have assumed that Tolkien actually set his dates based on our calendar, and translating the date to Shire Reckoning is to be done afterward. So, April 26 (Gandalf is "Good Morninged") is represented by 5 Thrimidge, September 22 (Bilbo's birthday) is represented by 1 Winterfilth, and so on. Personally, I find this less confusing than saying "Bilbo's birthday is September 22, by which I actually mean September 13." The calendar I've use is based on December 22 being 2 Yule, which is what Wikipedia claims (though there is a good article which says 2 Yule should be December 21, and were I using more book canon, I'd actually go with this instead since I want the dwarrow to come to Bag End on a Highday).
> 
> This is currently a work in progress, so updates might be sporadic. I have no beta, so all mistakes (including possible plot holes) are mine.

Sunlight streams down on Bilbo's face. This is a nice way to wake up! Quite pleasant. He can't feel any of the terrible rocking of the ship they had taken out of the Grey Havens, and his mind feels especially clear. For that matter, all the normal aches and pains he lives with as such an old hobbit (131! Even older than Old Took!) seem to be completely, miraculously gone.

Now that he thinks about it, he can't hear his shipmates, nor smell the sea. Nor should there be sunlight on his face, as the room he's been given on the ship doesn't have any windows in it. The bed he is lying in is also much softer, and stretching his legs and hands around, he finds it is also hobbit-sized, rather than the narrow but ridiculously long beds the ship has for the elves on it. Slowly, Bilbo blinks his eyes open and looks around. 

Bag-End! He's lying in bed in his old room. Not just any old room, but his bedroom as it was before he left for Erebor! The quilt on his bed was one of the items he had never bothered to recover from the ill-fated Sackville-Baggins auction of his possessions: it was Aunt Mirabella's wedding gift to his parents, and purchased by her daughter, cousin Primula. By the time it returned to Bag-End nearly fifty years later, it was placed on Frodo's bed instead. 

The hobbit startles out of bed, rushing over to the day planner he keeps on the vanity. Before the quest to Erebor, his life had been quite sedate. He had kept a meticulous social calendar so as to not forget any of the frankly boring tea dates he maintained as part of the unofficial running of Hobbiton and the official running of the Baggins family. The date reads 2 Winterfilth, 1340, and Bilbo laughs. It's the day after his fiftieth birthday, and except for collecting the month's rents and tithes for the previous, generally the two weeks after his birthday are kept clear to allow him a small spot of a holiday. It doesn't hurt most of the families of Hobbiton are busy finishing up the harvest before winter starts during the following month, besides. 

He had seven months to prepare for the arrival of his dwarrow. Bilbo comes stuttering to a stop. Thorin's alive. Thorin is _alive. Thorin_ is alive. 

Bilbo's eyes slowly flutter open. Is that a crack in his ceiling? Why is he lying in the hallway anyways? 

That's right, he fainted when he realised that Thorin is still alive while heading to the kitchen. Fíli and Kíli are as well. With a small frown, he also realises that none of his own surrogate nephews will even be born for ages. Frodo, who was the oldest and leader of the four, won't be born for nearly three decades. (The youngest, Pippen, won't be born for fifty years.) For that matter, Drogo won't come of age before Bilbo leaves, so he can't very well leave his favourite cousin's future father in charge while he's gone. 

As Bilbo finally makes it into the kitchen to start cooking Breakfast, he realises something. He doesn't need a Baggins in Bag-End to handle the needs of Hobbiton. He can leave the head of family matters to Uncle Longo, which is completely proper and respectable, and ask Holman Greenhand, his friend and gardener, to keep Hobbiton running smoothly while he's gone. He had done as much the first time, but leaving him with actual instructions and a key (as well as a purse of funds for possible emergencies) would be much better planning. He should approach Drogo about being his apprentice sooner rather than later, so when he leaves the smial to the lad it won't seem so unusual. Besides, learning how to be responsible for the town's emergency food supplies might teach him some moderation before he passes from rotund into dangerously large. 

He'll contact Drogo about the apprenticeship, asking his parent's permission to foster him from the start of Blotmath through the end of Rethe, while he's out collecting the rents for Winterfilth and tithings from Halimath today. Tomorrow, he'll leave for Bree. He needs to order some supplies for pick-up by Astron. As he sets his now cooked breakfast on the table, pouring his first cup of tea for the day, Bilbo has an idea. He'll tell everyone he's planning a trip to Rivendell, for which he intends to leave in early Thrimidge so as to reach the valley of the elves by Mid-Year. If Gandalf remembers, he'll see the cover for what it is, and if he doesn't, he'll just use it as an excuse to try to push Thorin to visiting Rivendell. 

Not that the dwarrow need Elrond to read the map for them. All Khuzdul is ancient dwarven, as they teach it methodically to their youth in the same manner it has been taught for millennia, well after they learn Iglishmek and Westron. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had the most daily practice before the quest, since it's the only thing Bifur can speak and write. Ori supposed in a letter he had written to Bilbo that he had learned Khuzdul during the first age. Several dwarrow had befriended elven craftsmen during the First Age, and dwarf-friends may be taught such secrets. Bilbo could read the map at this point, since Elrond spent the last twenty years teaching it to Bilbo in secret. The elven lord had believed he should be dwarf-friend despite the Arkenstone calamity. 

Bilbo finishes planning as he cleans up after his meal. He'll have to retrain his swordsmanship in secret, which will be difficult with Drogo living with him. Training with small stones and daggers will be easier, especially since small game hunting in winter is considered sensible, so long as the river hasn't frozen. He will need a good excuse for growing his hair out, though he did just get it cut two days ago in preparation for his birthday. It will be completely improper for a male hobbit come Astron. He'll start making non-perishable travel rations in Astron, as well as buffering his pantry for the feast he'll need come Thrimidge. 

Suddenly, Bilbo realises just how irresponsible he had been last time. Not that he never thought on it before. Did Gandalf even consider the responsibilities he had abandoned for his dwarrow? He knows that none of them knew until his last visit from Balin, before he set out to retake Khazad-dûm. Nor had they known that Gandalf had only arrived with his offer that morning before they did, and had been turned away. Should Gandalf's duplicity, as well intentioned as it is, be exposed for the dwarrow to see?


	2. Tea Time with Lobelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tea guests are downright unpleasant. Lobelia Bracegirdle has always fallen in that category for Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on "biweekly" - this term, and all time measurement terms using bi-, is used to either mean twice in that frame or once every two periods of the time. This is, obviously, a bit confusing. There is another term that means _twice in that frame_ , semi-, so for clarity sake I am declaring that in my story, bi- always means once every two and semi- means twice during. So, a biweekly tea appointment happens every other week.
> 
> Also, for those not familiar, Tûk is the original hobbitish name of Took. While I will primarily use Took and it's variants (I'm fond of the adjective Tookish), I will throw in Tûk once in a while, especially if hobbits are conversing or perhaps if Bilbo is upset and it causes him to speak with a more native accent. I won't be doing the same with Baggins because Labingi just isn't as obvious as Tûk, or with any other hobbitish name because I've never bothered to look them up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bracegirdle. You happen to be just in time for tea, would you like to come in?" Bilbo wasn't fond of Lobelia, and would only become less so after she married his cousin, but she lives in his town. He can and will sit with her for a civilized cup of tea.

She gives him sickly sweet smile, completely absent of any sincerity, and enters Bag-End. "Thank you, Master Baggins." Her smile falters as she spots Drogo bringing the tea tray into the sitting room. "Mister Baggins."

The master of Bag-End sits in his own armchair, his apprentice standing to his right, as their guest sits across the tea table. Drogo pours a black tea into three cups as they get comfortable, before adding milk to Bilbo's cup. " _Two sugars_ and a splash of milk for Miss Bracegirdle," Bilbo directs. Drogo smirks and Lobelia frowns at the emphasis the eldest of the three puts into the sentence, the implicit insult being that she is too bitter without a lot of help.

Bilbo waits patiently for Lobelia to speak, seemingly content to enjoy tea in silence with the pair in his parlour. After Drogo has distributed the cups and taken the chair behind him, Lobelia finally speaks up. "There have been some rather _nasty rumours_ about you lately, Master Baggins. I thought I might come clear a few things up, for the good of my future family's _reputation_."

"Is that so? I had heard some of my cousins on the Tûk side had been _bragging_ about me after my last visit with Cousin Fortinbras. I am not surprised that gossip has spread here from Tuckborough, since it is about me. Would you care to elaborate on these tales? Perhaps I can set your mind at ease." Bilbo takes a sip of his tea. He knows quite well that Lobelia is one of the biggest gossips in Hobbiton, if not the whole Shire. She is rather like her future mother-in-law, though Aunt Camellia has never been considered 'Matriarch of Slander.' That was probably the best description and insult of Lobelia he had ever heard, though it wouldn't start up for four decades.

She gets a malicious glint in her eyes as she starts. Briefly, the master of Bag-End wonders if she enjoys airing nasty rumours to the person they are about even more than she likes to spread them in the first place. "The buzz is that you are planning to abandon Hobbiton and hare off on an adventure to Rivendell. They say you lack respect for your position of as Head of the Baggins Family, as well as for Hobbiton, which depends on you being here in case of disasters and emergencies."

Bilbo smiles blandly at her. "Well, that just won't do. As you can see, I have taken on Cousin Drogo as my apprentice. I have been teaching him the duties required of the Master of Bag-End. While it has been beneficial to also be the Head of the Baggins Family, since it allows me to call on my extended family for aid without question as my father did during the Fell Winter, it is not a strict requirement. As you have surely noticed, I have been taking him on the rounds with me, and we have had tea with every household in the area." He takes another sip of his tea. "This has included biweekly tea with Uncle Longo. Has Otho not mentioned those meetings to you?"

Separated from Lobelia, Otho is actually not as bad. While he would never go off on an adventure himself, he still loves stories and finds amusement in the pranks of faunts and tweens. Unfortunately, he is still proving to be a greedy, opportunistic soul, no matter how Longo tries to keep him in line. As Longo's heir, Otho has joined most of their sessions.

Lobelia sniffs and puts her nose in the air. "Of course he has, and I ask him why you chose to take on Drogo as your apprentice instead of Otho, as he is supposed to be second in line as Head of the Family after you already. Drogo is _seventh_."

"Well, part of the reason is because Otho is already heir to the head of the Sackville family, and Falco is heir to the head of the Chubb family. I could have taken on Posco rather than Drogo, but I am rather sure he and Gilly will be wedding soon, at which point he will need to focus on his own fauntlings. Though not yet of age, Drogo has proven to be a sensible and clever lad, and learned the duties I have taught him very quickly. He is young enough to be taught, old enough to learn, and he isn't chasing skirts around Hobbiton. He is a decent and respectable hobbit, and he will be an asset to the Baggins family and Hobbiton. Once he has the amount of experience I have now, he will likely be better than I am at this, if only because he lacks my predilection for the outrageous."

Lobelia sneers. "He 'doesn't chase skirts,' you say. Is he an invert, too, then? Is that why you have him living here with you?"

Drogo finally speaks up, his voice quiet but clear. "Master Baggins introduced me to my intended, a beautiful bloom of a lass. She just happens to live all the way out in Buckland, and so I go to visit her at Brandy Hall on Highdays. He is also the very soul of propriety: never once pushing an unwanted court nor accepting any questionable liaisons in the four months I have lived here." Then he mutters under his breath, "Which is certainly more than can be said of you."

Bilbo smirks behind his tea cup. Never you mind that he is over twice her age, Lobelia had initially set her sights on Bilbo before pursuing Otho. He had gently, and then not-so-gently, rebuffed her advances, until she set her sights on his nearest cousin instead. It was the only time in his life he was glad to be an only child. He sometimes thinks Lobelia is still bitter about being refused.

Not that Lobelia's assertion of his homosexuality is wrong. Bilbo is reasonably attractive by hobbit standards, and as a tween he explored his interests, as you do. All the lasses of his own generation knew that he was a lost cause and let him be when courtings started, and the lads would come to him to work out if they might not be happy enough with a wife. He has lived as a Confirmed Bachelor for ten years now. While hobbits aren't as restrictive as Men, who have laws with violent consequence against "unnatural" couplings in many cities, they are also not as open-minded as elves nor as dwarrow. Marriage in the Shire is restricted to child-bearing couples, and those whose tastes fall outside such respectable parameters must at least be decent enough to not display their irregularity in public.

Had things been different the first time, Bilbo would have stayed in Erebor.

"Invert is not the correct term, anyway. I am certainly not a woman trapped in the form of a man. If I were, I would be Mistress Baggins and wear dresses. The proper word in Westron is gay, derived from the Noldorin word _gair_." Bilbo sets down his empty tea cup. "I am terribly sorry," he says, though he isn't sorry at all, "but I have an appointment with the tailor. I am quite sure the matter is sufficiently settled." He stands and escorts Lobelia to the door. "Good afternoon, Miss Bracegirdle."

He closes the door in her face before she can protest. Through it he can here her ranting something along the lines of him not clearing up anything at all.

 _"Gair?"_ Drogo asks.

Bilbo grins. "It means merry or happy. Alright, I have the tailor appointment for my final fitting on my travelling clothes and coat. I should be back within two hours, likely less if there are no problems." The leather coat is an ingenious thing, full of both visible and hidden pockets, with a hood and a button-in fur lining. The fur will ride in the bottom of his pack most of the trip, but he knows he'll be glad of it crossing the Misty Mountains and not long after his birthday. The exterior is water-resistant, but he still plans to use an actual oilskin. There are two full sets of clothing, made of sturdy linen and leather.

The leather waistcoats both have a small, interior pocket, just large enough for a ring to ride in, and he has a tiny pouch to keep the damned thing in so he doesn't have to touch it directly. He isn't thrilled about the idea of collecting the One Ring again, but he can't leave it there for a goblin to stumble across. Better to take it before the Nazgûl find Gollum, though he will need to convince Gandalf and Elrond, at minimum, to help him destroy it. Frodo, at least, should not have to live through having it a second time.

"One last thing, go down to Bywater and check on the Cottons. See if they have enough food stores to last through the first spring harvests." With that, Bilbo turns and heads out the door.


	3. A Wizard Comes Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf shows up at the gate of Bag-End, exactly when expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is my first chapter to coincide with events in the book and first movie, there are some lines that I have more or less directly transcribed from both sources, though I made some changes to phrasing and moved or reordered whole sections. So if you recognize something from them, I (obviously) don't own it.
> 
> Interested in my headcanon on hobbit meals? Check out [this Tumblr post](http://phoenixdaisy.tumblr.com/post/127511963554/hobbit-meals-a-headcanon).

Bilbo comes out into his garden shortly before elevensies to have a smoke on his pipe. Not that he'll be having more than tea for it today. He'll be much too busy making the feast of a dinner he'll need for his dwarrow once he's done with Gandalf. The weather is good, and a handful of fellows and tweens have been hired to help him set up for his party this evening. He relaxes his training-toned body on the bench, pushing the framing plaits that will keep his shaggy locks from falling into his eyes behind his pointed ears.

He has practiced with a wooden sword every morning for the past six months. Drogo had caught him at his training on a number of occasions during the months he had lived in Bag-End. Though he disapproved like a properly respectable gentlehobbit, he never made mention of it to anyone except for Bilbo. While using the wooden training sword, he had briefly considered getting another sword made. He also thought about taking a trip out to the future Trollshaws to reacquire Sting early. Both of these ideas he eventually decided against.

One set of his travelling clothes are packed, and the other is laid out for tomorrow. The pockets of his travelling coat have been filled with bandages, herbs, some good conking stones, some of his travelling money, a small flint-stone, a small whet-stone, two handkerchiefs, and a honey-cake and apple for tomorrow's lunch. His waterskin, oilskin and bedroll are all attached to his pack as well, along with a frying pan. His mother's ingenious collapsible pot is in the pack, as is his mess kit and first aid kit. The bulk of his rations are in Myrtle's saddlebags. He was surprised to discover she was a Shire pony rather than an Ered Luin pony, so he bought her at the beginning of Astron. He's been riding each day to build up his tolerance for it. The stable master agreed to deliver her to his smial tomorrow at dawn.

The Thain, Cousin Fortinbras, has a copy of his will. Holman has a spare key to Bag-End, and the deed which will be passed to Drogo in two years time if there has been no word from Bilbo. Drogo has the key to the Hobbiton tithe box and the third Bag-End key, and the lad promised to seek council from Holman, Longo and Fortinbras if he needed it.

Bilbo blows out a smoke ring, watches it's perfect shape for a moment, then lets his eyes close. He had spotted Gandalf making his way up the hill a few minutes ago, much more aware this time around than he had been the last. As expected, the smoke swirls back to dissipate on his nose, causing the hobbit to look up at the wizard. "Good morning."

"What do you mean?" the grey-clad Big Person replies. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo chuckles slightly, recycling his previously more confused reply. "All of them at once! And a fine morning for a pipe besides. Come, have a seat and I will give you a fill of my fine Longbottom leaf, should you have a pipe with you." He blows another smoke ring toward the wizard.

"Very pretty," he compliments, "But I have no time to blow smoke rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure I am arranging, and it is quite difficult to find anyone."

The hobbit grins slyly, "I should think so, you're in Hobbiton! It is home to plain, quiet folk who have no use for adventures. They are widely considered nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that make you late to dinner in these parts. West of Bree your best luck would be down in Tuckborough, were there any Tooks of age who hadn't already started their families." He stands up, collects his mail, and moves towards his lovely green front door. "Good morning," he dismisses, though Bilbo can't look at the wizard for fear of laughing and giving his game away.

"What a lot of things you use good morning for!" Gandalf huffs. "Now it means that you want to be rid of me, and that it won't be good until I move off. To think that I should be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son as if I were selling buttons at the door," he mutters, disgruntled.

Bilbo turns back, his face serious though his eyes are merry. "If only you were, I say, I am actually quite fond of good buttons. You clearly know who I am, sir, perhaps you could return the favour of your name?"

"You do know my name, though perhaps you do not remember that I belong to it!" the wizard exclaims. "I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means… me."

The hobbit has to hold back a smirk. The collective opinion of hobbits is that Gandalf means _wandering trickster_ , which the meddlesome Istari certainly is. "Why you don't mean Gandalf the wandering wizard, who made such excellent fireworks? I remember those. Old Took used to have them on Mid-Year's eve. They would go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening." He recalls in particular a wonderful dragon firework, wrought in the likeness of Smaug, but that beauty was made for his own eleventy-first birthday. "Bless me, life used to be quite interesting back then. I had no idea you were still in business."

"Where else should I be? All the same, I am pleased you remember something about me, even if it is just my fireworks." Gandalf is about to continue when the hobbit interrupts him.

"I certainly do. Come inside and tell me about this venture. I shall make us tea."

Gandalf stands confused a moment at Bilbo's sudden invitation, before following the smaller creature into the hill. As he settles into the single Big Person chair, sitting in the corner of the kitchen, his host pulls a freshly boiled kettle from his wood stove. Gandalf stares at Bilbo's very unhobbity appearance, particularly his toned physique and wild, braided curls. The hobbit sets up the tea in the pot, setting out a small jar of honey on the tea tray, and waits for his guest to finally speak. "I do not have leave to offer full details, but a group of thirteen dwarves plan to travel east on a great quest. They need a fourteenth member, and I feel you would be best suited to this task."

The hobbit looks at the wizard over his tea cup. "What makes you think that I am the right person for the job? Wouldn't this company be more at ease with another dwarf?" Just because Bilbo has been preparing for this trip for months, and needs to start cooking within the next half hour, doesn't mean he will let Gandalf walk all over him this time.

The old meddler smiles gamely at the question. "You have been sitting quietly for far too long," he states teasingly. "I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of elves in the woods, wielding a wooden sword. One who would stay out late, coming home after dark trailing mud and twigs, and fireflies. A young hobbit who would like nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. You are curious, like your mother was, and I think she would urge you to go with us. The world is not in your books and maps, it's out there." Under his breath he adds, "You look ready to run out this minute, to be completely honest," though not low enough for the hobbit to miss.

Bilbo hums, "I can't just go running off into the blue, I am a Baggins of Bag End." The argument is much weaker this time, as he is not at all impassioned to avoid the quest this time.

"You are also a Took. Did you know that your Great-Great-Great-Great Uncle 'Bullroarer' Took was so large he could ride a real horse?" Gandalf barely waits for a nod before continuing. "Well he could! In the Battle of Greenfields, he charged the Goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head cleaned off and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won and the game of golf invented at the same time."

The story is a popular Took family legend. "I do believe you made that up," the hobbit accuses anyway.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment." The wizard smiles, "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

"Can you promise that I will come back?" Bilbo has difficulty sounding hesitant, but he feels this was one of the most important questions he had asked Gandalf before deciding to go the first time.

The Istari looks him over speculatively a moment before he answers. "No, and if you do you will not be the same."

"Very well. When am I to meet up with these dwarrow?" The hobbit is already sipping his tea when he realises that most people don't know that dwarrow is the proper plural form of dwarf, not the commonly used term "dwarves."

Gandalf shifts slightly, though his face shows no remorse for what he is about to say. "They shall be arriving tonight at dinnertime. I expect they will be quite hungry. Once fed, Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of the company, will tell you more about the quest."

"Tonight?" Bilbo manages to squeal in indignation. He put off cooking anything more than extra baked goods (all of which would keep from when he made them yesterday) until he was finished with Gandalf, mostly so as to not arouse the meddlesome old coot's suspicions. He isn't entirely sure yet that telling the wizard about his second chance will do more good than harm. "I need to start cooking right now! Imagine, only a few short hours to prepare such a feast!" He bustles to his personal pantry, hoping his excitement isn't overriding his actual nervousness too much. While he's had the last seven months to get used to the idea that he would see his dwarrow again, the fact they will be here tonight is still overwhelming, particularly in the case of Thorin and his nephews. "Help me cook or get out," he hollers as he re-enters the kitchen with an armful of food, but the wizard is already gone.


	4. An Early Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first dwarf comes knocking a bit earlier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not using book or movie canon for Gandalf's mark. Hah! The "original" mark referenced is from the book canon, and in movie canon the mark is the Cirth letter for "G."
> 
> Also, any mentions of "biscuits" will be made in the British sense. So, cookies to us Americans.

There is a lull in Bilbo's cooking a few hours later, which happens to coincide with the arrival of his helpers. He directs them in what he wants on top of his hill, and where. At the beginning of spring he built a barbeque spit, which has been roasting a suckling pig since shortly after Gandalf disappeared. With Drogo out in Buckland today, he borrowed assistance from young Hamfast, Holman's cousin and new apprentice. Of course, one day the boy would be known as the Gaffer, and his future son, Samwise, would be Frodo's most loyal companion.

On his way back to his smial, Bilbo looks for the mark on his door. Interestingly, it is different than last time. Before, it had been three marks, a "B" and "D" in Westron and a diamond shape to represent payment. This time, it is the Cirth letter for "Th" carved on the door. Bilbo wonders if it is for "Thorin" or "Tharkûn," quickly deciding for himself that should be the former.

A faunt runs up the lane, calling, "Mister Bilbo, Mister Bilbo!" just as he reaches the marked door.

"What is it, lad?" he wonders.

The boy, Renel, stops to catch his breath, then looks up with excitement in his eyes. "There's a dwarf headed to the Hill! Several more are poking around the market area, even though its Highday!" He seems amused that the dwarrow don't know that the market is always closed on Highday.

Bilbo is quite sure no one had bothered to warn him last time he did this. He wonders if he has, quite ironically, become closer to his community in his plans to abandon them. He's gained the epithet of "Mad Baggins" early, but his insistence of smiling happily at anyone who calls him the name has confused his Baggins relatives and neighbours (but makes his Tookish relatives giggle in delight). "Don't bother the dwarrow, my boy, though you may direct them this way if they are still loitering in the market in an hour. I would ask a favour, though. Would you and the other faunts keep an eye out for the Grey Wizard, Gandalf? He is a Big Person, dressed in grey robes and a tall, pointed, broad-brimmed hat. Once they are headed to the Hill, insist that he put off some fireworks for you all and separate him from my dwarves!" He motions the boy to follow him into the house. "I have a bag of biscuits here for you to share with every faunt you can convince to help you!" He hands over a cheesecloth bag of raisin-oatmeal drops, and admonishes, "Only one per faunt!" as the boy tries to open the bag.

With a sigh, he says, "Yes, Mister Bilbo," then scampers off to find his friends.

Bilbo gets back to work on his cooking, trying to distract himself until the early dwarf arrives. A quarter of an hour later, three heavy blows are knocked on the door.

The hobbit calls out, "A moment or this sauce will burn!" He stirs the pot he's working with another minute, and when the proper consistency is reached, he pulls it from the heat and rushes to the door.

Bilbo takes a breath, thinks to himself, _This should be Dwalin, just don't look intimidated_ , and pulls open the door.

Piercing, ice blue eyes look into his, framed by long black hair shot with silver and a short-cropped beard.

_That's not Dwalin._

Thorin's breath stutters, then he finally says, "You look more like a burglar than a grocer, Master Baggins."

A grin breaks out across the gentlehobbit's face at the statement. _Thorin remembers too!_ "I have a small bit of experience, Master Oakenshield." He places his small hand in the dwarf's larger one.

"You look like you did at the end of our journey, rather than the beginning." His free hand reaches out, fingering the plait next to Bilbo's right ear. "I have beads for these."

He ducks his head, but Thorin can still see the tips of his ears turning red quite clearly. "I've been growing it out the last seven months since I woke up back here in Bag-End." When he looks up again, the dwarf looks thunderstruck. "Thorin, what's wrong?"

The Blacksmith King places his other hand against his burglar's shoulder, then leans his head down to rest their foreheads together for just a moment before standing upright again. "I only came back two weeks ago. I was tempted to come straight here, but no one else in the Company had remembered. I thought I was to be alone in this knowledge. It must have been so difficult waiting, seeing me die then waking up again fourteen months earlier."

Bilbo frowns. "I didn't realise it at first, but I believe I got here after I died, as well, eighty and a half years from now. I came home, planted my tree, and watched it grow as you asked.  I lived to age eleventy-one and twenty, the oldest Shire-born hobbit yet, though the last twenty years of my previous life I spent in retirement in Rivendell. I was sailing on a ship out of the Grey Havens to Valinor when I passed."

"Eleventy-one and twenty? And why did you retire with _elves_ instead of going back to Erebor?" Thorin asks, sounding agitated.

The hobbit sighs. "Before retiring in Rivendell, I travelled all the way to Dale. The city was beautiful, even if everything was too big." This draws a quirk of a smile from the dwarf. "When I looked across the farmlands toward the Lonely Mountain, all I felt was grief and emptiness. I couldn't go back, knowing your kingdom was thriving without you alive in it." He rubs his small thumb over the much larger, work-rough hand wrapped gently around his. "Um, one-hundred and thirty-one was my age when I died. Most hobbits don't live past one-hundred."

"So short!" Thorin exclaims. He pauses, apparently doing some mental math. "That would make you fifty now? I didn't realise how young you are!"

Bilbo glares up at him. "Hobbits come of age at thirty-three. I am nicely middle-aged, in the prime of my life, and that isn't even considering that I have actually lived for over eleventy-one and twenty years! I'm not like your nephews, some tween without sense or respectability." He chuckles then, "Not that I'm overly respectable now. At least this time I won't be haring off after you all less than twenty four hours after I had quite directly told Gandalf no adventures! Having some actual notice about all this means I'll be feeding you all properly this time, and I've actually _made_ arrangements for my duties here."

The burglar turns and shuffles into the kitchen, completely missing the Thorin's face morphing through surprise, shame then indignation. "The wizard told me about you three weeks ago, before this thing happened, and implied you had agreed to come with us already. Last time, we had all thought you fickle when you had apparently changed your mind twice before we even left, especially since you spent the first few weeks complaining about everything."

"Meddlesome wizard!" Bilbo looks over his shoulder and smirks at the king. "I'll let you reprimand him first when he shows up, if you like. Though I haven't told him yet about this bizarre situation we find ourselves in now. I know things not just about the future of this quest, but also about his future and massively important world events. I decided to seek the council of Lady Galadriel first. She should arrive in Rivendell around the same time we do." After plating everything he just finished cooking, the hobbit turns back to the scowling king. "Help me bring this food up top?"

Thorin collects two heavy platters and follows his hobbit out of the smial.


	5. An Expected Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the dwarrow arrive to the feast set on top of the Hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone calls them "fauntling(s)" but the proper term is actually "faunt(s)" according to my research. I decided to use both terms, so fauntling until their eleventh birthday, faunt until their twenty-second, and 'tween until their thirty-third.
> 
> As an interesting side note, Lobelia turns twenty-three the year Bilbo leaves (1341 SR), which means that the movies insistence that she is already in at least a serious enough courtship with Otho that Bilbo calls her "Sackville-Baggins" evokes, for me, a very improper relationship between a thirteen-year-old and a seventeen-year-old, as Otho turns thirty-one this year. For those curious, Drogo turns thirty-three in 1341 SR, though none of the three have their actual birth-dates established.

"Bilbo, before the others arrive, there is something I would like to ask you." Thorin's hands are fidgeting with a small satchel attached to his belt.

The hobbit puts a few finishing touches on the spread across his banquet table, then looks down the Hill for any sign of the other dwarrow. "We have a little time, I can't see them coming yet."

The dwarf king takes the hands of his burglar and draws him to their seat at the table. Hobbit sized benches are placed along each long side of the table, a Big Person chair for Gandalf at the far end, and at the head is a smaller hobbit sized bench for Thorin and Bilbo. "Were you planning to sit here with me if I hadn't remembered?"

The hobbit rather suspects that wasn't the question his dwarf intended to ask, as it sounded surprised and rather sporadic. "If you hadn't remembered, you would have somehow gotten lost twice trying to find us. I would have sat here alone until you arrived, at which point dinner would be over and we would probably move inside anyway." He squeezes the hand still engulfing his own. "Now, what did you mean to ask me about?"

"Were you lonely those eighty years? What little you talked of the Shire made it seem like you were isolated here. I had always intended to ask you to stay in Erebor, with m–us." Thorin's face, which mostly has been wavering between pensive and cautiously content since he arrived at Bag-End, darkens with a scowl.

Bilbo doesn't let the look bother him. Thorin's scowl is not actually aimed at him, or else he'd be glaring too. Of course, most the time any glares aimed at Company members had been due to concern rather than anger. "I was alone for a long time. It was the worst right after I got home. My cousin and the lass he's courting, they'll wed in about a decade when she comes of age, convinced his father that I was dead. My uncle in turn auctioned off all my belongings. They were planning to move into my smial! I picked up the troll hoard chest on my way home, since I had given away my share to Dale, and used some of it to buy back my own belongings." He reaches up with his free hand, turning the king's face back toward him. "If you're asking if I wed after I left Erebor, then no." His nose twitches. "I lived out my life as a Confirmed Bachelor, and in my twilight years I adopted the son of two of my other cousins after they died. He called me Uncle and was the only blood family I cared for since my mother's death."

After a few moments, the silence between them is broken. "May I put your beads in your hair?" Without waiting for an answer, Thorin starts unbinding the end of the right braid.

Bilbo tilts his head. "Will you tell me what mean?"

The dwarf lightly tugs on the plait in his hand. "The bead I am putting in now means you are under my protection. The one for the other side signifies you as a foreign ambassador."  He turns the hobbit's head to put in said bead. "The combination should make everyone more respectful, as well as signifying permission to answer questions about our culture to a slightly greater extent than if you were not wearing them. They may also be more open to asking about hobbit culture or yourself from the start."

Before Bilbo can quip that _maybe_ now the Company _might_ deign to talk about their culture at all, a voice sounds from the road down by the garden. "Thorin! Is that you up there?"

The exiled king stands, moving across the top of the hill. "Dwalin! Master Baggins is up here with me. Are the rest far behind?"

The bald dwarf shakes his head, "Everyone besides Gandalf should be here in a couple of minutes. We were delayed by a group of younglings, but once they separated the wizard from us, one of them urged us to head up without him."

Bilbo steps around Thorin, and into view, before speaking to Dwalin. "That would be my doing. Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Dwalin, son of Fundin, at yours." Noticing the beads in the hobbit's braids, the warrior quirks an eyebrow at his king before turning his attention back to their host. "How did you convince the hobbitlings to distract a wizard?"

Bilbo grins smugly as he tucks his hands in his trouser pockets. "I bribed them with biscuits, of course. And the proper term is faunts, or possibly fauntlings when they are really young." He draws Dwalin's attention to a box not far from the table covered in food. "If you wish to set aside any of your weapons while we dine tonight, feel free to use this box." Inside, Thorin's short sword Deathless is already placed.

Dwalin leans his warhammer against the box, and places several auxiliary weapons inside of it. Grasper and Keeper, however, stay strapped to him.

"Uncle!"

Bilbo turns toward the voices of the two youngest dwarrow in the Company. Balin is escorting Fíli and Kíli to the top of the hill. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he introduces himself.

"Fíli-"  
"-and Kíli-"  
"-at yours!" The unison introduction brings a smile to Bilbo's face.

The elder dwarf, after a shrewd look at the hobbit's beads, gives a small bow. "Balin, son of Fundin, at yours."

Bilbo gently pushes Fíli toward the weapon box, while speaking to the white-bearded dwarf. "Your brother, Dwalin, seems to be eyeing the feast table. Any chance you can distract him until the rest arrive? T'would only be polite for everyone to dine together."

Soon, the young archer sidles up to the hobbit. "Mister Boggins!"

Bilbo twitches his nose, his face fondly exasperated. "Mister Kíli, I am the head of my family. The appropriate address is _Master Baggins_ , with an _a_ and not an _o_. If you don't think you'll be able to get that right, just call me Bilbo."

"You did not mention that before," comes the voice of Thorin from over his shoulder.

The burglar turns to the king and raises an eyebrow. "I said I was the Baggins of Bag-End, so I did tell you. I just didn't explain what that means." The phrase had been a common element to his laments during the first journey before they had all reached Rivendell. He turns back to Kíli. "Did you need something, lad?"

"Balin shooed us from the table," he whines. "When can we start eating, Bilbo?"

Bilbo looks around Kíli, for he has been listening to the approach of the rest of the dwarrow for a few minutes already. "Just as soon as I have met the rest of the Company, so another minute or two since they are here." As he moves around the archer, he mutters under his breath, "No need to wait for meddlesome wizards." As he reaches the eight dwarves who have just arrived, he calls out, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service! Welcome to my home, or the top of the Hill at any rate. As soon as I have met you all, we shall begin dinner!"

The group arranges themselves into families, Óin and Glóin introducing themselves first. Next come Dori, Nori and Ori, with Bifur, Bofur and Bombur introducing themselves last. Bilbo then directs them all into a queue to collect a plate (or two) of food from the table.


	6. The Unexpected Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three unexpected hobbits arrive, leading the Company to learn more about their host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the names for Shirriff Hornblower and Master Brown from who I would suppose is their decendents, grandchildren or great-grandchildren. Tobias Hornblower is the name of a shirriff from the War of the Ring era, and honestly the family name sounds like volunteering to be a Shirriff or Bounder is a family tradition. Lily Brown is Rosie Cotton's mother. The LotR movies portray Rosie as a barmaid despite her father being a farmer, who would be more likely to have all his sprogs helping on the farm. So I thought perhaps her mother's family owned the inn, since the owner of the Green Dragon Inn was never established.
> 
> Mister Barnes' name comes from Barnes & Noble, of course.

The spit-roast pig is very popular, as expected, as are all the other meat dishes and the breads and taters. The venison-mince stuffed bell-peppers make their way onto several plates, as do the vegetable-stuffed button-quail. Most of the dwarrow avoid the single, small bowl of salad, but Bifur and Bombur both take some and drizzle it with the vinaigrette placed with it.

Everyone seats themselves: Thorin at the head with Bilbo on his left, Balin and Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli, Glóin and Óin down the right side, Dori, Nori and Ori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur down the left. Bombur had nearly taken the big chair, until he realized it was too tall to comfortably reach the plates he had place in front of him. Bilbo, already knowing the relative importance of each dwarf, suspects they seated themselves for comfort rather than using a formal arrangement.

After most of the Company finished eating, they all sit watching as Bilbo continues to eat bite-for-bite along with Bombur. Both are on their fifth plate of food. He hears Dwalin ask "Where does he fit it all?"

Ori speaks up to respond. "Very little is known about hobbits outside of this immediate region. None of the men-villages between Thorin's Halls and here had any information on them, if they had heard of them at all. Since we arrived a day early, I visited the market yesterday. There was a bookseller, Mister Barnes. I was able to get a copy of 'Hobbits for Outsiders' by Master Bungo Baggins, after telling Mister Barnes I was concerned about being a good guest for Mister Baggins."

The single hobbit at the table nods. "My father's book. He wrote it for my mother so she could gift a copy to Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

As the hobbit returns to his meal, Ori continues. "It says that hobbits eat a minimum of five meals a day, and then only due to time constraints related to farming. Seven meals a day is the most common, and some hobbits eat as many as nine!"

Bilbo looks up to see all the dwarrow staring at him. "I missed three meals today, and chances of supper will be slim with all the business we surely need to discuss!" He straightens himself out. "Normally I don't eat so much in one sitting. However, I will be eating like this whenever I have opportunity on the journey, seeing as I'll have three meals a day, if I'm lucky, for months on end."

"And Bilbo is already suspiciously underweight for a hobbit." Gandalf comes up onto the hill, serving himself a plate of food from the decimated remains on the buffet table. "Seeing as he forgot to offer scones when I had tea with him late this morning, I was concerned he has been having appetite issues."

"That would have been elevensies?" Ori asks.

Bilbo nods. "Yes, and many days I skip everything but tea at elevensies and opt for a slightly larger lunch instead. However, once I was informed that thirteen dwarrow would be arriving for dinner I had to put my own schedule completely on hold to cook all this."

"Yes," Thorin growls, "I was quite alarmed to discover this afternoon from Master Baggins that you hadn't visited him at all to invite him to my Company until this very morning. Especially since you had told me he already agreed to join us three weeks ago!"

Gandalf scowls slightly. "I never said anything of the sort. I told you that I had found the fourteenth member of your Company and he could be found by the mark on his door. I also said you would be well-fed, which you have been."

"They have eaten the entire contents of my pantry, Gandalf. There is barely enough to scrape together breakfast for tomorrow remaining. We are all, in fact, rather lucky I hadn't already reduced my own stores since I had intended to go venturing out in the morning anyway!" the hobbit fumes.

Balin speaks up to ask, "Where were you going to head, Master Baggins?"

Ori's brow furrows at Balin's question, though only a few at the table seem to notice it.

"The truth is," Bilbo explains, "I've already been planning a bit of an adventure for myself. I was intending to go to Rivendell. My mother always spoke highly of Lord Elrond." He glares at the wizard. "I, the Baggins clan, and the villages around The Hill have all been preparing for this for seven months. If you had all shown up tomorrow instead of today, it would have been to an empty smial and there would be no hobbit in the whole of the Shire of age and disposition, not to mention lacking in close family, for you to lure away."

"The fact that all of Cousin Bilbo's plans seem to be perfectly timed for the arrival of a wizard and an entire company of dwarves to the Shire makes me wonder if the old wives are correct," a new voice adds. Three hobbits come up onto the Hill, surveying the remains of dinner and the supposedly unexpected party. Everyone at the table turns to look at them as well, as Bilbo hurries to his feet to greet the other hobbits. The leader speaks to his cousin as they clasp hands. "Rumours of foreknowledge have been building around you since winter."

"Cousin Fortinbras! I know that your Tookish nature wants you to put stock in such notions, even if they are completely ridiculous, but you are the Thain!" The Baggins shakes his head at his Took cousin. "You must keep a more level head."

Ori squeaks. "You’re the Thain's cousin? You didn't correct Balin earlier, so you are also the head of the Baggins family, aren't you?"

The hobbits all exchange glances before he answers. "Yes to both questions: I've been Master Baggins of Bag End for fourteen years now, and my mother was Belladonna Took, favourite daughter of the Old Took, who was grandfather to both Fortinbras and myself."

"Green Lady, he read your father's book, didn't he?" Fortinbras rubs his face with both hands.

Fíli reaches across the table and briefly grips Ori's shoulder. "Why does that matter, Ori?"

"The Thain is the king of the Shire. Master is a form of address reserved for the leader of that family, and the Baggins are third most prestigious family of hobbits. Additionally, being referred to as master of a personal home makes him the lord of the surrounding lands." The scribe explains.

Balin looks pleased for some reason. Dori says something about good breeding (and further mutters about poor job choices). Dwalin declares the beads make more sense now. Fíli and Kíli rush over to see the beads they had completely missed before. Thorin just gapes.

"I want to point out that hobbits don't consider the Thain as our king," Bilbo announces. "Technically the Shire is part of Arthedain and the Kingdom of Arnor. Also, most of East Farthing and the entirety of Buckland across the Brandywine look to the Master of Buckland instead of the Thain, who is not a king either. And while I have responsibilities to Overhill, Hobbiton and Bywater, it only falls to me as the owner of the largest smial in the area. Basically, I can fit the most refugees, and under The Hill is the safest place to be in most crisis situations, so I keep the emergency pantry and ensure it is stocked."

"Gandalf!" Kíli cries out, "why didn't you tell us Mister Bilbo is a prince?"

The burglar rolls his eyes. "I am seventh in line for Thainship, not counting any of my cousin's faunts, so that list is likely to get longer before I could ever reach the top. Also, since the Thain is _not_ a king, I couldn't be a prince even if I was next in line."

"Mahal wept, how many uncles and cousins do you have?" Glóin wonders. "I'm eighth in line after Thorin and our last common relative was our Great-Great-Grandfather!"

"That makes you third cousins," Bilbo supplies. "Mother was the ninth child of twelve and I have thirteen first cousins on the Took side."

All the dwarrow gape at Bilbo, except for Thorin and the Urs. They will be even more impressed when they discover Bombur's seventh dwarfling is on the way.

"Bilbo!" Fortinbras finally draws the host's attention back to the trio of truly unexpected hobbits. "Would you mind filling me in on what is going on?"

He wrings his hands and offers them a guilty smile. "Yes, of course. Thain Took, Shirriff Hornblower, Master Brown, would you all kindly follow me inside? Master Oakenshield, you are welcome to join us as well."


	7. A Council of Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo needs a cover story, quick! He has one, but will the Thain believe it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been wonderful readers, by the way. Every kudos, subscription and comment warms my heart. While I think I would have tried to keep the story going even without your fantastic support, it makes it much more fun to do this knowing you all enjoy it as much as I do!

Bilbo settles the three hobbits and Thorin into his private study with him. He knows they will be less likely to be interrupted than they would be in the main parlour. He waves the Iglishmek for _"Follow my lead"_ to Thorin, a sign he had picked up shortly before they had reached Laketown the first time doing this. "Introductions." _When in doubt, always start with manners,_ Bungo had often told him. "Thorin, may I present Thain Fortinbras Took, Shirriff Fillan Hornblower, and Master Tapper Brown, the owner of the Green Dragon Inn. Cousin Fortinbras, Shirriff Hornblower, Master Brown, I am pleased to introduce Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, King of Durin's Folk."

Hornblower and Brown watch the king curiously now. Hobbits generally don't give a damn about royalty or nobility, not since the line of Arthedain ended and it stopped mattering. The fact that Bilbo gave this dwarf the higher honour than not just the Thain, who the dwarves seem to be convinced is equivalent to being Bilbo's king as well as being his kin, but to the three of them combined is _extremely telling._ It wasn't the way of the Shire to voice what relationship might exist between the dwarf and Master Baggins, but it was clear to every hobbit in the room their connection is quite serious.

The Took steps forward to shake the dwarf's hand, effectively stunning him with the gesture's equality and familiarity. "Are you the Thorin of Thorin's Halls? Our cousins up in Long Cleeve have maintained a trading agreement with Princess Dís for nearly a century now."

"Dís is my sister, and Thorin's Halls were indeed named for me." While he doesn't quite manage a smile, the lines around Thorin's eyes and across his forehead soften thinking about his family. "Her sons are part of the company I am travelling with."

Shirriff Hornblower speaks up, then. "Could you explain what brought you and your company to the Shire, Master Oakenshield?"

"Gandalf hired them on my behalf," Bilbo interjects before the dwarf can speak. "He heard I was leaving tomorrow for Rivendell when he saw Mister Greenhand last month." The gardener told Bilbo about it the following day, and Bilbo wondered if the same had happened the first time and Holman had forgotten to mention it. "Since Thorin's Company will be passing that way on their trip to the Iron Hills, they have agreed to allow me a place in their caravan in trade for this last bit of comfort before their long journey, my cooking skills on the road, and the fact I am paying my own way."

Thorin clears his throat. "Indeed, the roads of the West are not often troublesome, but it is always safer to travel in a group than alone."

Fortinbras looks between the two suspiciously a moment, before nodding once to himself. "The two of you clearly know each other, and have since at least last autumn. I get the feeling, when winter comes you won't be in Rivendell, cousin." He squeezes Bilbo's shoulder. "You got all your affairs in order to run off and get married, didn't you? Not that I blame you, we had two uncles who did the same." The Thain grins at the thunderstruck looks on both their faces. "Did you not realize, Cousin? Uncle Isengar went to the sea because he fell in love with a gentleman elf who tends the ships at the Grey Havens. Uncle Hildifons ran off with a dwarf just as it seems you will be doing. That _is_ what the beads mean, right?"

Bilbo shakes his head, a befuddled smile twisting his lips. "I _never_ got to hear these stories, no matter how many times or how many people I asked. How do you know them?"

"Of course they wouldn't tell _you,_ " Shirriff Hornblower grunts. "You might have run off and never become the Baggins of Bag-End if you had known. It's bad enough you're doing it now when you hadn't ever heard the full stories." He stands, as does Master Brown. "What's even worse is you Tûks _talk_ about such impropriety instead of just being discreet and private about your inversions like a respectable hobbit would. I believe Master Brown and I are not needed for such matters. The Shirriffs and Bounders will track your progress through the Shire, but I expect you to start escorting the dwarves out tomorrow, Master Baggins." He bows to the Thain and the dwarven king, before stepping from the room.

Tapper Brown bows as well. "As none of the dwarves paid for rooms at the inn tonight, I leave their arrangements to you, Master Baggins. Good night." He quickly follows after Fillan.

Fortinbras pats his cousin's hand. "You had stopped asking about our uncles, so I thought your mother had finally told you."

He smiles wistfully, "The closest she got was telling me how much I reminded her of them on occasion. You wanted to know about my beads, yes?" Bilbo waits for his cousin to nod, before indicating the bead on his left plait. "This one signifies me as a foreign ambassador to the dwarves of Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains. It is fortuitous you came over tonight; otherwise I would have had to send a hurried letter about it on my way out of Hobbiton. The other bead–"

Thorin interrupts before Bilbo can speak. "It indicates my intentions to other dwarrow. I wish to court him properly, but I do not know the ways of your people, nor do I have what I require to do so within my own traditions. Would you wait a moment for me to fetch something?"

The hobbits both nod, and once he leaves the room the Took speaks. "He failed to mention what the bead meant, didn't he?"

"He had told me that it would put me under his protection, and the Company would show more respect than they might otherwise." The burglar grins. "I had hoped it meant more, but I didn't have time to push the discussion before another dwarf had appeared. We have some communication issues to work on."

Fortinbras claps Bilbo on the shoulder. "Then let us hope you take more after Aunt Belladonna than you do Bungo when you decide to confess your affections!"

There's a rapping on the door then, light for a dwarf but it would be heavy for a hobbit, and Thorin re-enters the room. He has a leather satchel with him. "One tradition I would like to take care of now. Bilbo is the head of father's family, but you are the head of his mother's more prestigious clan as well as the leader of his people."

"The office was created as master of the Shire-moot and captain of the Shire-muster and Hobbitry-in-arms, so it's technically a military position." Fortinbras declares.

Thorin grins, quipping, "So is that of a dwarven king." He then bows to Fortinbras. "I would like to formally request permission to court your cousin, Bilbo Baggins, and present this as a token of sincerity to your family." He hands over the package.

The Thain opens the binding and flips the top flap open. Inside is a beautiful set of gardening tools, made in steel with wooden handles. He removes each implement from their individual slots, thoroughly checking them over, noting the fine craftsmanship and high quality. "These are well-crafted, Master Oakenshield. Did you make them?"

"I did. No matter your decision, Thain Took, they are yours to do with as you choose." Thorin holds his hands behind his back. Bilbo is able to see the tension in the dwarf's shoulders as he waits for word from his cousin.

Fortinbras smirks. "Good thing Bilbo is the head of the Baggins family, I very much doubt they would take to a dwarf, especially a male one, asking to court Bilbo. Half of them ignore his queer proclivities and try to push lasses at the poor fellow!" He closes the pouch, then hands it to Bilbo. "Go pack it up to take with you, and be sure to send us all invitations to your wedding! Even if no one goes, we'll want the proof you ran off to marry a dwarf king." He winks Thorin, "No point in trying to deny you, I'm sure you well know my cousin will run off with you whether I, or anyone else, approves or not!"

Bilbo slips from the study to take the gardening set to his room to pack up. When he turns to leave, he finds his cousin in the room as well, the bedroom door closed behind him. "Thank you for letting me keep them, though I imagine he would have made me my own set before next spring if you hadn’t."

The Took nods, then grasps his Baggins cousin by both shoulders. "Don't let him die this time. I don't want to watch you live another life broken and alone. I will look after Drogo and Primula for you."

By the time Bilbo comes out of his shock from Fortinbras' words, the Thain has left Bag-End.


	8. Planning Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to discuss the plan for once they reach the mountain, though a plan for reaching the mountain should have come first...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The runes Tolkien says are on Thorin's map would not be the actual runes found on the map. They are English words written out in some form of Futhorc, presumably Anglo-Saxon runes which were used for Old English. So the visual we see of the runes on the map are "translated" by Tolkien from their original Khuzul in Angerthas Moria or Angerthas Erebor, to English in Futhorc. Maybe someday I'll try my hand at translating them into Khuzdul then write them out in Angerthas Erebor.
> 
> Also, this is another heavily transcribed chapter, this time primarily from An Unexpected Journey. Again, if you recognize something, I (obviously) don't own it.

When Bilbo rejoins his dwarrow, he sees his dishes all put away and the outdoor furniture stored in his nearly empty pantry. The Company is settled down around the dining room table, extra candlesticks lit and scattered across it. Thorin is telling them, again, that none of the dwarf lords were willing to send their armies to battle the dragon. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone. But I would take each and every one of you over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon you, you answered. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart: I can ask no more than that."

The hobbit slips into his seat to the right to the dwarf king, their hands clasping together under the table and out of sight. "Now that we are gathered, perhaps you would care to go over the details? Gandalf would not tell them to me when he recruited me this morning."

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands," Gandalf starts to unfold some paper, laying out a map in front of Thorin and Bilbo, "lays a single, solitary peak."

"The Lonely Mountain," the hobbit reads. "Wait, dwarven maps orient east at the top?" He tilts his head, looking at the map sideways to get a better idea of its layout. "No wonder you get lost on the surface, Master Oakenshield, non-dwarven maps all have north at the top!" The sudden hush in the room prompts Bilbo to look up. Thorin is blushing, and the rest of the Company is staring at him. "He got lost twice on his way here."

"He was still the first to arrive, despite having the meeting with other Lords." Bofur points out.

Dwalin leans forward. "He put beads in your hair before anyone else got here to even meet you. Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting? Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo gives Thorin a sidelong glance and half-smile at hearing the king's words coming from the mouth of his best friend. "I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know," he teases. "I mostly use thrown stones and daggers." Nori had helped him turn his skill at Conkers to throwing daggers after demonstrating his skill with stones on small game in his previous life. "Should a sword small enough, light enough and strong enough come our way, however, I have a small amount of training for it. Hobbit smiths don't make weapons, humans would make them too large, and dwarven blades are usually too heavy. The only reason I even own throwing daggers is because they were a gift to my mother from an elven smith."

"If you don't own a sword," Fíli asks, "how did you train with one?"

"Wooden practice sword." It's mostly true, both as a faunt and since his return he's used a wooden sword. He can't very well tell them he was trained by Fíli and Dwalin with a sword they won't come to have for another six weeks.

Glóin brings them back on track. "Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."

"Ravens have been seen flying back toward the mountain," the medic provides, "as it was foretold. _When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end._ "

"A reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur states, supposedly for the hobbit's benefit. "Airborne fire-breather: teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks, extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo interrupts, voice laced in sarcasm. He remembers Smaug quite well, despite the years since he faced him last, and a shiver runs down his spine. "Gandalf told tales about the fall of Erebor at Old Took's parties when I was a faunt, though they were likely heavily edited."

"Bilbo was rather fond of my stories, especially the ones that were fantastic but still true." The wizard smiles warmly and paternal at the hobbit.

Ori stands, his chair squeaking as it scrapes the wood floor. "I'm not afraid! I'll give him a taste of dwarfish iron straight up his jacksie!"

Most of the dwarrow cheer at the show of bravado, bar Dori who tugs the young dwarf back into his seat. Thorin and Bilbo exchange a look, both aware that Ori is more frightened than he will let on.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just thirteen," Balin laments.

Before he can comment on lack of collective brains amongst the gathered dwarves, Thorin speaks up. "If we have read the signs, other will have read them, too. Rumours have begun to spread: the dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain: assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lays unprotected. Can we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" He holds his left hand up, settling the roused gathering again. "We have merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers, and but a few warriors amongst us. Gandalf said we needed a burglar, so let him lay the plan before us."

"The front gate is sealed, and most believe there is no way into the mountain. That, my good dwarves, is not entirely true." A key appears in the wizard's fingers.

"How came you by this?" the dwarf king asks.

Gandalf smiles. "It was given to me by your father, by Thráin, for safekeeping. It is yours now." He hands the key over to Thorin.

"If there is a key," Fíli states obviously, "there must be a door."

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," the Istari offers.

Kíli claps his brother on the back, continuing the campaign of obvious statements: "There's another way in."

"If we can find it," Gandalf shrugs, "but dwarf doors are invisible when closed."

"Master Oakenshield, would you translate the Cirth on the map into Westron for me?" Bilbo asks. He can actually read it himself, but it would benefit the others to hear the information. Also, since he is not Khuzd, reading it out loud could cause a riot.

"What do you know of Cirth?" Kíli asks from the far end of the table.

Bilbo grins a little. "Cirth runes were created by Sindar elves during the Years of Trees, before the First Age, to write their native Sindarin tongue. While cirth fell out of favour among the elves by the Second Age, the dwarrow had adapted Angerthas for their use as they are best suited of all writing systems for carving in stone, metal and wood." The whole company besides Balin, Ori and Gandalf (of course) seem stunned by the early history of the runes.

"It says, 'Five feet high the door, and three may walk abreast,' and these marks are the initials of Thrór and Thráin," he answers, pointing at the map.

Bilbo smirks, "That is the same mark on my door. Is that your initial, then, Master Thorin Oakenshield?" At Bilbo's brazen tease, the dwarf king's cheeks pink. The rest of the dwarrow smirk, chuckle or stare.

Before anyone else can respond, the wizard speaks up again. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But," he looks around the table at the gathered dwarrow, "there are others in Middle Earth who can."

Thorin turns to look at Gandalf, and Bilbo is rather sure he raised his eyebrows at the hint of heading to Rivendell.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage," the Istari continues, shooting a look at his chosen burglar, "but if we are careful, and clever, I believe that it can be done."

Ori speaks up again, "That's why we need a burglar."

"And a good one, too," Bilbo responds. "An expert, I'd imagine. As to why Gandalf thinks _I_ can be that expert, perhaps he would like to tell us _all._ " The first time around, the claim he had never stolen a thing in his life was _mostly_ true. His mother had kept track of his faunthood misdemeanours: trinkets accidently wandered off with, pies swiped, mushrooms snatched. All faunts did such things, though generally it petered off early in tweenhood. Pies were only put out on low windowsills if their loss was affordable, and if the faunt came from a well-off family, they were always repaid in coin, goods or favours. Favourite mathoms were always lifted back by the faunts of the original owners, or gifted back on the taker's birthday. After all the nasty business with the Arkenstone the last time, however, he wouldn't make that claim again.

Gandalf nods to the hobbit's request. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. As youths, they have a tendency for light-fingeredness: scrumping and filching are common pastimes. They are quick of wit and tongue, allowing them to talk themselves out of most trouble. And finally, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He looks between king and burglar, a smirk quirking his mouth. "I had anticipated needing to convince you both a lot more than I have needed. The fact you are… _familiar_ with each other, while unexpected, is in all our favour. How, exactly, did the two of you meet?"

Bilbo and Thorin look at each other and swallow hard. How could they possibly explain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sept. 6, 2015: I made a small change to chapter 3, updating Gandalf's rememberance of young Bilbo to include more from the movie. Like the trailing fireflies line.


	9. Finish Up, Wind Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contract is read and signed, rooms are arranged, and the Company sings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what kind of timeline the movies are based on, since they don't seem to be the book's timeline. Balin does not look like a seven y.o. dwarf during the dragon attack on Erebor to me, nor does Thorin look like he could possibly be a day under thirty, the age that dwarrow reach physical maturity. Social/mental maturity seems to happen between 62 and 77, the respective ages of Gimli and Kíli at the time of the Quest for Erebor, even if they can go to war much younger. Since I visualize them from the movies, I will refer to Balin as being older than Thorin here, especially since even if it's not true, he just looks older to Bilbo.
> 
> I moved the singing scene from the parlour to the smoking room, because Bilbo knows they will be smoking so they will sit in the room which is sealed from the rest of the house and ventilated through the roof, damnit! I also added some modifications to the song itself: two more verses from the book, fixing one of those so it doesn't say "beneath the moon" twice in the same stanza, and a verse I came up with on my own.
> 
> I drew a layout for my expanded Bag End, posted [here](http://phoenixdaisy.tumblr.com/post/128680387964/a-rough-sketch-of-bag-end-expanded-for-my-fic-an). It is largely based on the layout made for the Bag End of the movies, but vastly expanded to show off that Bilbo is both well-to-do and has space to deal with the responsibilities I've assigned him.

The hobbit squeezes the King's hand under the table, then folds both of his own together on the table top before speaking. "Today isn't the first time Master Oakenshield has been to Hobbiton. When I mentioned him getting lost twice, I was actually referring to his previous visit." He pauses to smile wistfully, before speaking again. "He glared at me and mockingly called me a grocer. It wasn't a _good_ first impression. However, that isn't relevant to our plans tonight. For now, I'd prefer to focus on the quest ahead of us, especially determining what needs to be done before we come in range of Rivendell. Lord Elrond is expecting me, and if Master Oakenshield is willing, I would encourage him and the Company to stop there with me for a short rest before crossing the Misty Mountains."

As intended, most of the dwarrow erupt in outrage at the suggestion they should take sanctuary in Imladris. A few members (Kíli, Óin and Bofur) study Bilbo's nostalgic expression and Thorin's embarrassed scowl instead of adding to the arguments to why trusting elves is a bad idea. When Bilbo sees Bifur signing an incredibly rude and physically improbable suggestion to what the elves should do with themselves, he finds himself needing to slip off and fetch himself a few scones from his stripped out pantry to keep any of the dwarrow from noticing he understood by his reaction.

 _"Itkit!_ " Thorin roars, bringing the chaos to an end just as Bilbo retakes his seat. "Gandalf, you said there were others in Middle Earth who might be able to read the secret of the map, but you failed to mention where these others might be. The only reason you would do so is if you think we would not willingly seek their council." He pauses to give the wizard a chance to respond.

The Istari nods and takes his cue. "Lord Elrond is actually our best option to read the map. Rivendell lies directly on the path between us and Erebor, it is one of the few places where your company will find refuge during your travels, and as they are already expecting Master Baggins, it would be detrimental to his reputation if we did not stop long enough to inform Lord Elrond that he will not be able to remain there as planned."

"The bottom line is," Bilbo adds, "I am going to Rivendell with or without the rest of you. If you would prefer to camp out in the open while I spend a night or two in nice, soft, ridiculously oversized bed, then that is _your_ choice." One last round of grumbling passes through the dwarrow as he hurriedly, but neatly, eats his snack.

"Let's make it official," Thorin says, turning to look at Balin. "Give Master Baggins the contract."

The white-bearded advisor pulls the long, stitched-up scroll out, "It's just the usual: summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

After wiping any crumbs from his lips and hands, the hobbit takes the paper presented to him. "Funeral arrangements?" He quickly finds the passage. "Those will need changing, actually. Don't worry; my customs will cost you less time and resources."

"That's not in the book, Master Baggins," Ori states. "What are your funerary customs?"

He looks around the table, twitches his nose, and finally speaks. "Hobbits primarily worship the Green Lady, Yavanna, and so we prefer to be returned to the earth. We are buried in a hole no deeper than three feet, based on the average length of a grown hobbit's foot. A tree is planted over the grave. Check my pockets for a seed first. Excuse me a moment." Bilbo leaves the dining room, stepping into the study to grab an inkwell and quill. When he returns, he starts crossing off and altering the funeral arrangement terms.

The Company all stare at Bilbo. "Don't hobbits worry about scavenger beasts digging the body up?" Glóin asks.

"Not really," he replies. "Preferably our dead feed the trees planted over them, but sometimes they feed animals first and then go back to the plants of the earth later. The hole should be deep enough for most creatures to leave it be, however, since a dead hobbit doesn't smell much like a dead animal."

He goes back to reading the contract. The terms of his employment state he is being hired to enter Erebor's treasury, assess the state of Smaug, and retrieve the Arkenstone if possible. (So, same job as last time, but he doesn't recall the contract stating the task so clearly before.) It also states he is expected to assist in travelling duties. He notes that the terms covering repayment of his own out-of-pocket expenses is a bit more generous than last time, being calculated with a small amount of interest before profits are split rather than stating his share should sufficiently cover it. Also, instead of saying his share would be up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of the profits, it states he will get one-equal-share, currently at one-fourteenth, which is non-transferable without approval from Thorin and Balin until it has been paid out. Also, in the event of his death, rather than his entire share being forfeit as before, half of it would be payable to his next of kin, with space to fill in the information. On the line he writes, _Send to Fortinbras Took to be handled with will._ Once he is satisfied, he signs it and pushes it to Thorin to read his alterations.

"The Thain has your will on file?" the dwarf king asks as he reads the alterations and notes.

The hobbit nods, "I went down to Tuckborough to finalize an up-to-date copy just last week, when I added a provision on how long without contact I would like him to wait before declaring me dead."

"You could be declared dead while you're gone?" Bombur asks.

Bilbo grimaces. "Hobbits don't usually leave the Shire. My mother and several of her brothers left to adventure, but one of them never returned and another never settled down to have a family. There are also some issues between myself and the Sackville-Baggins branch of my family, and at least one of them, and his betrothed, would love nothing more than to lay claim on my smial. Without that clause in my will, I could be declared dead as soon as three months after leaving." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure if the rest of the Baggins clan would defend my rights, except for my apprentice Drogo who conveniently comes of age in about two months. The fact I'm called 'Mad Baggins' by the gossips and the faunts because of my peculiarities doesn't particularly reflect well on them, no matter that I'm a completely respectable eccentric and I have ensured that my duties have been handed off and my replacement trained before leaving. Which is something I couldn't have done if I hadn't decided to leave until after Gandalf came calling this morning." The last is accompanied by a glare at the wizard. "Now, can I get a few of you to assist me? I'd like all the furniture you've so kindly brought inside to be put in storage rather than sitting abandoned in the pantry. Then I will show you all the guest rooms, and finally we can retire to the den for a smoke."

Most of the dwarves help move the furniture, Balin pulling Thorin aside for a private discussion instead. Bilbo has them arrange the pieces in the Banquet Hall, a huge room they enter from the end of the West Hall. Through the far end of the large room, they enter the secondary corridor. Off the back side of this tunnel are the dormitory rooms, modestly appointed with enough space to house two hobbits comfortably (or seven tightly). The rooms haven't seen use since the Fell Winter, though Bilbo airs out the mattresses twice a year. He puts Fíli and Kíli in one room together, but the rest of the group he offers their own quarters. Even so, Dori puts Ori into his room, while Óin gets put in Glóin's room and Bifur is joined by Bofur.

Dwalin puts Balin's pack into the room next to his, then turns to their host. "Do you know where Thorin put his belongings, Master Baggins?"

"I have two other guest rooms. One is a Man-sized room, where Gandalf stays, and the other is the Spare Bedroom, which is the nicest guest room, and so I offered its use to Master Oakenshield." Bilbo smiles congenially, desperately not thinking about how the room, his until six years ago and Frodo's in forty-nine (now twenty-eight) years, is next to his own chamber and so very far from all the bunkrooms in the smial.

Once everyone has picked their rooms, he leads them all to the den. He can overhear Thorin and Balin in the parlour. "You don't have to do this," the elder says. "You've done honourably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

"From my father and my grandfather, this has come to me." Bilbo, now lingering discreetly in the East Hall, sees Thorin hold up the key. "They dreamt of the day that the dwarrow of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin, not for me. I will lead our people home."

Balin nods, "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done." He pats his friend on the shoulder. Bilbo comes in then, beckoning them to follow him.

Once the two settle into the den with the rest of the dwarrow, the deep humming begins. Bilbo lingers in a corner, Thorin's voice and countenance making his own face soft with emotion.

 _"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,_  
_To dungeons deep and caverns old,_  
_We must away, ere break of day,_  
_To find our long forgotten gold._

 _"The pines were burning o~on the height,_  
_The winds were moaning i~in the night,_  
_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_  
_The trees like torches blazed with light._

 _"The bells were ringing in the Dale,_  
_And men looked up with faces pale._  
_The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,_  
_Laid low their towers and houses frail._

 _"The mountain smoked beneath the moon._  
_The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._  
_They fled their hall, to dying fall_  
_Beneath his feet, in fiery tomb."_

Most of the dwarrow stop singing at this point, but Thorin continues on for one more verse. The rest hum along, listening to his final thoughts: this new, last verse.

 _"Far over the Misty Mountains stone,_  
_To hollows dim and shattered throne,_  
_We must away, ere break of day,_  
_To claim our lost and stolen home."_


	10. Last Night in Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin doesn't stay in his own room, and the next morning the Company terrorizes Bilbo's pottery and flatware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably noticing that I didn't actually change the rating. I might later, but honestly a large part of the delay on this chapter (which I am pushing out the moment it's done rather than taking a night off to edit the next day like earlier chapters) is because as much as I love smut, I'm apparently not quite ready to post it publicly online. *shrugs* Perhaps eventually, but for now the heavy action is faded to black. 
> 
> Also, the six cameo oc hobbits I named using the [Bosworth-Toller Old English Dictionary](http://www.bosworthtoller.com/). Actually, most to all of my cameo oc hobbits have their first names pulled from there.

After the song, Thorin tells the Company to head to bed since they will be off early the next morning. Bilbo leads them from the Oak Hall to the West Hall, before veering off to his closet then his own room. He goes through his evening preparations quickly, stripping out of the day's clothes and putting on his knee-length nightshirt. Finally he pulls on his dressing gown, then stands near the door leading to the corridor, and his dwarf in the room across. Just then, the hobbit hears the spare bedroom's door open, followed by a few shuffling steps. After a moment of hesitation, the burglar opens his own door, pulling the king inside.

Thorin is wearing nothing but a pair of soft, faded trousers, clearly designed as sleepwear. He turns as Bilbo closes the door, crowding him against it once they are face to face. "May I-?"

Before the question is finished, the hobbit surges up to buss the dwarf, pulling him down by his shoulders so he can reach. It's brief, chaste and gentle, little more than a dry brush of lips. As he pulls back, Bilbo murmurs, "Yes."

Thorin carefully cards a hand through honeyed curls, his thumb trailing from the delicate point of an ear down the shell to its lobe, causing Bilbo to shudder and gasp. "Tell me to stop and I will."

"I doubt I'll need to." The burglar steals another kiss from the king, starting it with a firmer press. His mouth opens, tongue swiping gently over chapped dwarven lips, which part for him to explore with a quiet moan. Bilbo starts manoeuvring them both toward his bed, pushing against Thorin's broad chest.

When his knees are pushed against the edge, the dwarf sits on the bed. "You surprise me, Master Baggins. I did not expect you to be so forward."

Bilbo quickly sheds his dressing gown, crawling into Thorin's lap and pushing him down onto the bed. "I have waited a lifetime for this, Master Oakenshield," he replies before diving down for another smooch.

The burglar tangles his hands in black and silver waves, gently tugging on braids or scraping his nails lightly over his king's scalp while they kiss. His own hair and plaits are handled in return, with thick, calloused fingers frequently brushing against his sensitive, pointed ears.

Eventually, Bilbo pulls back. "Thorin," he sighs, "I am rather enjoying this, but I rather expected to be more, you know… _naked_ by now." He plucks at his nightshirt, which has bunched up on Thorin's bare stomach while he hovers over him on his knees.

The dwarf blushes at his hobbit's complaint. "I would have thought courting would be deliberate, fussy, and overly polite in the Shire."

The burglar snorts. "Oh, it is quite proper and respectable, at least in public. However, a great number of Shire weddings occur shortly before the lass starts showing, if you follow my meaning. If something can be kept behind closed doors, it doesn't affect ones respectability."

"When a dwarrowdam does want children, she can refuse suitors for 'failure to craft' after a year of hammering in her forge," the king confides. "Those wedding ceremonies take place while she is rounded by such crafting. However, that is generally the fifth year of courtship."

Bilbo whines. "Do you intend for us to wait another four years before any 'hammering' happens? Not that hobbits don't do long courtships, three of my cousins are in courtships that cannot be completed for at least a decade, two of them to each other. But a hobbit of my tastes cannot actually court without losing all respectability, so I'm used to… well… never mind that." He bites his lip and waves the words off with one hand, looking down at Thorin's chest instead of his face.

"Used to what?" the dwarf growls.

The hobbit's tongue darts out, moistening his lips. "I had some trysts in my youth." He looks into the icy blue eyes below him now before admitting, "I've not had any such liaisons since the night I met you."

The king sits up again, causing his burglar to slide into his lap, and leans down to kiss him again. "Good," he murmurs against soft, thin lips.

* * *

The next morning, Bilbo wakes contentedly, a warm weight behind his back and over his belly. His eyes flutter open, then he sighs as he looks at the state of his nightshirt. Thorin never did pull it off of him, despite the rather direct invitation to do so. In the end, they ground together through the nightwear until both were satisfied, then they fell asleep cuddled together. The dwarf had proven to be a snuggler after the Carrock on their first time around, so at least that hadn't been a surprise.

"Good morning." The dark, rich voice whispers directly into the hobbit's ear, followed by a nuzzling of the shell which makes him shudder.

Bilbo rolls over, straddling Thorin to kiss him. "Good morning," he replies as he scrambles out of the bed. Large, dwarven hands try to detain him, but ultimately fail. "I need to ask a favour of you. You probably realised last night, when we were speaking with the Shirriff, that hobbits don't acknowledge same-sex relationships."

"His petty disdain was rather obvious," the dwarf responds as he pushes up onto his elbows.

The hobbit nods, biting his lip. "I must ask that, until we pass Bree, our public interactions include a minimum of touching. The Shirriffs and Bounders will be tracking our journey out of the Shire, though I doubt the Company will even realise, and it would be better if they can convince themselves our relationship is only platonic." He pulls on his dressing gown distractedly. "Once we are away from the Shire, I will follow your lead on what is allowable."

The warrior raises an eyebrow. "Why don't you think my Company will notice a band of hobbits keeping track of us?"

"Because you didn't last time," Bilbo quips, smirking at the shocked look on Thorin's face.

While he dresses in his closet, he can hear his lover slip out of his bedroom. The dwarf is likely headed back to his own room to dress for the day. The hobbit wonders if the rest of the company will wake easily in the deeper rooms of the smial, undisturbed by the dawn light which woke the pair of them.

Breakfast is a quick affair, the dwarrow finishing off the last of Bilbo's perishables and some more of the baked goods. The rest he split up between them for snacks or lunches on the move. When they were done, several of them had started pounding and the table and clanging the silver. The hobbit signs _"Watch this,_ " to the king, then proclaims to those still at the table, "Can you not do that? You'll blunt them!"

"Hear that lads?" Bofur exclaims, "He says we'll _blunt the knives._ "

Fíli nabs a plate from Ori, tossing it to Kíli who starts the song:

 _"Blunt the knives; bend the forks!_  
_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_  
_Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_  
_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

 _"Cut the cloth, trail the fat!_  
_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!_  
_Pour the milk on the pantry floor!_  
_Splash the wine on every door!_

 _"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;_  
_Pound them up with a thumping pole;_  
_And when you've finished, if they are whole,_  
_Send them down the hall to roll!"_

Thorin stares at Bilbo, who is half exasperated and half amused at the antics of the Company. The rest of the dwarrow are much too busy either cleaning up or playing their instruments, most of which came from pockets or from their satchels, to realise that their burglar is not half as flustered as he ought to be. As the song winds down, Bilbo bursts into the kitchen as expected. Half of the reason is to escape the wary eyes of Gandalf, who was contemplating him during the song.

_"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

As before, the pottery is clean and stacked neatly, the silver shining, and the dwarrow laughing and cheering. There's a soft knocking at the door, which Bilbo leaves the kitchen to deal with. Thorin, who had set the table before breakfast, directs the others as to where the different items are stored. 

Apparently word had reached the stables that the dwarrow were housed by Mad Baggins the previous night. All the Company's ponies are standing outside Bag End along with his own Myrtle. "Bilbo," says Birla Aernan, the eldest son of the stable master. "Sixteen ponies and one horse delivered!" Behind him, Raeder, Brookemint, Mearh, Baetan and Stodd are tying the steeds to his fence.

"The task took all of your siblings, did it? Let me fetch you some biscuits for the trip back." He sends the group off with a purse of coins and a sack of peanut butter criss-crosses for the trouble. Once Myrtle is loaded with his saddle bags, the Company starts the journey from Bag End. They ride through Hobbiton then eastward on the East Road.


	11. The First Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is nearly surprised at how very little the first part of the journey has changed, though the small things that have aren't insignificant to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I think I moved a book event (which didn't get used in the theatrical release of the movie, at least) to happen earlier than described (the week five event, which I think happened after the week six in book canon).
> 
> Also, you can see how I'm spreading some stuff out, because really, it takes them eight weeks to get from Bag End to Rivendell, and only three/four major events are shown during that time in the movie.

The first six weeks of the journey go nearly the same as before. There are little differences, of course. The dwarrow are more sociable with Bilbo at the start. Thorin sets out his bedroll next to the burglar's, rather than on the opposite side of the camp, from the very beginning instead of only after the Carrock. Thorin, Dwalin and Balin watch the habits of the group while they are crossing the safety of the Shire, and come up with a better watch schedule off the bat than the first time around.

At the end of the first week, they hear wolves in the distance, as they are common in the forests and plains just east of the Shire.

Thorin sees Bilbo shudder one night, and asks, "Master Baggins, why do wolves bother you so?"

The first time around, no one had asked him about his habits, history or hobbies. He hadn't shared this story with any of them before. "It was shortly after my twenty-first birthday. Winter started early that year. It was harsher and more terrible than any living hobbit could remember. We were already suffering starvation caused by food shortages when the Brandywine froze. Great white wolves invaded the Shire, hunting any that dared go out in search of food. The Horn-call of Buckland alerted East Farthing across the river, which prompted a string of alert horns to sounding. When we heard it in our section of West Farthing, one hundred hobbits from Overhill, Hobbiton and Bywater were evacuated into Bag-End. We mostly took in poorer and middle class families, as houses are considered less secure than a smial. Several hundred hobbits died that winter, including several of my great aunts and uncles. Most of the deaths happened in Buckland and East Farthing, where the wolves forced their way into houses and holes." He offers a sad, lopsided smile. "It could have been worse. That was just the Fell Winter nearly thirty years ago. Thousands of hobbits died during the Long Winter, though few hobbits know much about history to realise that."

Kíli pipes up, "Wait, I'm older than you?"

"Hobbits come of age at thirty-three," Ori supplies. "Master Baggins would be exactly middle aged at fifty, as hobbit life expectancy is about a century."

"That's not much longer than Men," Balin notes.

Bilbo smiles to the others. "While you are technically older than I am, my relative age is, if I am not terribly mistaken, more along the same point as Mister Bofur and Mister Nori, and when I am your current age--" he looks at Thorin, "Seventy-seven?" which gets a nod, "I will be of relative age to Mister Bifur and Mister Dori. Neither of my parents lived much past eighty, but my maternal grandfather, Old Took, lived to eleventy-twenty."

"One-hundred and thirty," Thorin quickly supplies to the confused looks of the dwarrow. "You said he was the oldest hobbit in Shire history, Master Baggins?"

The burglar nods, though he hadn't actually said so. Since he only lived one year beyond his own grandfather, it is a reasonable assumption on the king's part. "Old Took heard stories about the Long Winter from his parents and grandparents, so I was able to hear second-hand accounts. However, most hobbits don't bother with stories older than their own grandparents. My interest in history is one of my quirks. Of course, it means I understand our customs better than most hobbits as well. It is pretty much the only oddity I got from my father rather than my mother."

During the second week, they hear orcs in the lowlands. Fíli and Kíli still try to tease about orc raids, but Bilbo gives them a glare this time for trying to frighten him. Thorin still yells at them for the prank.  Balin shares the tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar, though instead of using the elven name of Moria, he refers to the lost dwarven city of Khazad-dûm.

That night, Bilbo starts sleeping wrapped in Thorin's arms.

One night in the third week, an interesting question is posed. "Why do the other hobbits call you 'Mad Baggins'?" Fíli asks one evening.

Bilbo's face can't decide if it should grin or grimace, and eventually settles on a moue of distaste. "I started calling unborn babes by unannounced names about six months ago. Not only have I been right about the gender every time, but the parents always end up using the name I choose. Back in Winterfilth, I suddenly took an apprentice, to whom I am not even twenty years elder, so I could leave the Shire. Of the three other hobbits to do so in the last century or so, all of them were Tooks, and only my mother settled there again permanently." He pauses to think. "By my age, most hobbits are married and have, or are attempting to have, children. The fact I declared myself a Confirmed Bachelor at the age of forty has been a mark against me for the past decade. I'm actually considered quite antisocial for a hobbit, possessing a great many quirks, oddities and queer ideas, especially for a Baggins. Oh, and I've had a knack for somehow being uniquely prepared for unexpected visitors since my last birthday, which all of you benefitted from the night you came calling at Bag-End."

Bifur asks, in a combination of Khuzdul and Iglishmek, why only three hobbits have left the Shire in the past century. Bombur alters the question, "Who were the other two hobbits who journeyed, and what happened to them?"

"Two of mum's brothers," the burglar responds. "Apparently Uncle Isengar fell in love with an elf living in the Grey Havens, though he came back to visit a few years ago. He is close enough that when he passes, he can be brought back to the Shire for burial. Uncle Hildifons ran off with a dwarf, though if he's even still alive he'd be nearly one-hundred now, and he never even came back to visit. I imagine that once word gets around that _I've_ left with dwarrow, no one will expect me to return, either."

"I still don't see how any of that makes you mad?" Kíli presses.

The hobbit twitches his nose, nods, and pats the lad on his shoulder. "Because most hobbits are narrow-minded, secretive creatures who think the way they live is the best way and no other race or land is worth our time. I think we have good qualities, too, of course, but really it would just be best to remember that I am truly the only hobbit who would have come with you, and that makes me 'Mad Baggins'." He politely doesn't point out how the flaws of his people are mirrored in the other races of Arda: Men being intolerant, Dwarrow being isolationist, and Elves being elitist, generally.

There is an entire week of rain again, falling over the fourth week of travel. Gandalf speaks of the other wizards. After he defends the quality of the Brown Wizard to Bilbo, Thorin actually enters the conversation. "This Radagast sounds like a nature-oriented wizard. Could he stop this rain?"

Gandalf smiles, "Perhaps he could, Thorin Oakenshield, however I doubt that he would wish to do so unless it was doing harm to the plants and animals of the area."

"You said that Saurman is the greatest wizard of your order," Bilbo states, "but what kind of wizard is he, exactly?"

The wizard gives Bilbo a piercing look before answering. "He is a lore-master, particularly in regards to ancient kingdoms, relics and the deep arts."

The hobbit nods, and lets the topic drop. The rain stops about an hour later.

At the end of the fifth week, some of the ponies try to bolt one evening, resulting in Fíli and Kíli nearly drowning in the Hoarwell River. After the boys are rescued, the ponies and everything on them are recovered, though some of the food is ruined.

Just before the seventh week starts, the Company arrives at the ruined farmhouse. Gandalf pushes heading for Rivendell, as if they aren't still nearly two weeks away, but Thorin acts the obstinate dwarf (an easy job, since he rather is) to stay where they are. Bilbo and Thorin talked about this, in signs and whispers during Thorin's watches. They both want their swords back, which are in the troll horde, but also neither want to leave such a threat unhandled and so close to the main road. Three trolls are a hazard to any group or caravan using the highway, and the elves of Rivendell would have already taken care of them if they actually came this far west.

When the ponies are grabbed, Bilbo sends Kíli back to fetch Thorin and the other dwarrow, while he and Fíli investigate. The hobbit is suspicious when the lad goes without much fight, but he has to deal with scouting the trolls before he can dwell on it. Knowing he'll have backup sooner rather than later, he leads his lover's heir toward the troll's campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, a f***ing cliffhanger. Seriously, though, that scene just needs its own chapter. Hopefully it won't take me more than a week to get it written up for you guys.


	12. Who Knows?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli acts suspicious, but dealing with trolls is more urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be the longest chapter yet, but not too much longer than previous chapters.
> 
> Khuzdul translations have both hover text and reference notes. I tried to link them, but for some reason the id subtag doesn't work. Which is really weird, because I've downloaded fics that seem to have used this function before. If anyone knows what I've missed, feel free to comment.

Bilbo comes up to the princes, bowls of stew in hand. He already knows that two ponies should be missing, but the looks on their faces confirm the timeline. "What's the matter?"

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," Kíli starts  
"Only we've encountered a slight problem." Fíli continues.  
"We had sixteen."  
"Now there's fourteen."

The hobbit forces one of the bowls into the archer's hands. "Try to get some of this in you while you run back to camp. Tell Thorin what happened. Whatever pulled up that tree over there is very big and possibly quite dangerous."

"Maybe we shouldn't-" the elder brother starts. Not that it matters much, since the younger is already running off.

The burglar shoves the other bowl into his hands with an adorable scowl. "Do not argue with me on this. We might need the whole Company to deal with whatever has taken the ponies, and I think your uncle would much rather _not_ stumble into a rescue scenario. You and I will go scout it out, leave a trail for your brother so they can find us quickly."

Fíli nods in acquiescence as they move toward the felled tree, shovelling bites of stew in his mouth as they navigate the area. After looking around he points off in the distance. "Hey, there's a light. C'mere." He waves Bilbo after him and they move toward the troll camp, the prince's hand reaching out to break off brush branches or pull up small plants as they move. "Stay down," he quietly warns. Once they are close enough for the dwarf to hear, he drinks from his dinner bowl.

"What is it?" the hobbit asks, though he already knows.

Fíli sets the spoon and now empty bowl aside and answers, "Trolls." He runs again while trail-marking until they are in visual range of the troll camp.

Just as they find a good spying place, a troll walks past with two more ponies. "He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo hisses. He searches through his pockets, until he finds and pulls out a pouch full of herbs. "Here, this is a mix of belladonna roots, moonflowers, and foxglove seeds. Very poisonous! If you get a chance, pour it into their pot. Hopefully at least one of the plants affects trolls." He grins at the prince's dumbfounded face, and claps him on the shoulder. He also helps himself to one of Fíli's daggers, though he doesn't think the lad realises. "I'll try to get the ponies without them noticing me, and distraction with poison is the backup plan. When Thorin comes, don't attack unless they've actually captured me, we want to keep the element of surprise." Bilbo turns, straightens his travel waistcoat and jacket, then moves in toward the firelight.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrer," the cooking troll protests without looking up from his pot.

The one carrying the ponies retorts, "Quit your gawping! These ain't sheep, these is west nags!"

"Oh, I don't like 'orse," the third troll responds. "I never 'ave. Plus, last time you caught nags we got turned to stone!"

"Not again!" the first groans as he stirs the pot. "We ain't been turned to stone, Bill! If we'd been turned to stone, we'd still be stone!"

The second one, the largest, shakes his head, "Been going on about this all week now, 'e 'as."

Bilbo puts his hands over his face as he listens to the trolls converse. This is very much _not good at all_. One of them remembers before, and if they spot him too soon, they'll probably kill him and the dwarrow straight away.

Bill sneezes right into the pot.

"Oh, lovely," the cook says sarcastically, "a floater!"

"Might improve the flavour," the biggest suggests.

The hobbit sneaks back toward where he left Fíli. Not far from that spot, he can hear the dwarrow attempting to whisper.

"Master Baggins gave me a bunch of poison to put in their pot if he has to distract them, but first he wants to try sneaking the ponies out," Fíli is telling his uncle.

The burglar slips into the middle of the group, causing several of them to gasp because they hadn't even heard him approach. "Actually, this looks like it will be a bit more complicated than I'd hoped."

"You certainly are a good sneak," Nori states. Then he grins as the hobbit hands Fíli one of his own daggers, to the prince's surprise. "And apparently a good pickpocket as well. Why shouldn't it work?"

Bilbo rubs his hands together and turns to the king. "Thorin, one of the trolls has been complaining about _being turned to stone_ for the _past week_."

" **Iklif**!"[1] Kíli spits. All the Company looks at the younger prince, most in obvious confusion, but Bilbo and Thorin are flabbergasted.

The hobbit grabs the king's wrist before he can grab his nephew to reprimand or demand answers. "We'll deal with that later," he soothes. "Look, the one who's been complaining is clearly the stupidest of the three, but I think he would be the most _unpredictable_ if he got his hands on any of us."

"Did he say the stupidest troll is the most unpleasant?" Óin asks.

Glóin shrugs, "Close enough."

"I think you should attempt to sneak in first," Balin says to the burglar. "Try to steal back the horses. If they do spot you, the rest of us will launch a surprise attack. If we can figure out which one you are most worried about, perhaps we can try to disable him first." He takes the poisons from Fíli and puts them in Nori's hands instead. "You'll probably do best at getting this in their pot."

Bilbo nods. "He has a cold, and I am pretty sure he's he is the smallest of the three. He is neither the biggest nor the cook."

The Company all nods, though Thorin is glowering with worry and Kíli looks both nervous and a bit sheepish.

The burglar makes his way around the troll camp again, with a dagger "borrowed" from Fíli in his hand again.

"I'm starvin'!" the largest troll is complaining. "Are we 'avin' 'orse tonight or what?"

"Shut yer cake'ole, you'll eat what I give ya!" the cook responds.

Bilbo starts sawing at the pen ropes with the dagger.

"'Ow come 'e's the cook?" the largest continues. "Everythin' tastes the same. Everythin' tastes like chicken!"

"Except the chicken," Bill interjects.

The first strand of the rope separates under the knife.

"What tastes like fish!" the big one concludes.

The cook is stirring the pot again. "I'm just sayin', a little appreciation would be nice. 'Thank you very much, Bert.'" Only one strand of the rope left to cut. "'Nice stew, Bert.' 'Ow 'ard is that?"

The ponies neigh and stamp out of the pen once the rope falls away. Bill, the closest troll, turns toward the commotion first. "Burra'obbit!" he yells, his ham fist reaching right toward Bilbo.

"Oh, bother!" The hobbit pricks the troll under a nasty, jagged fingernail. Somehow the little blade doesn't get lodged in the tough skin, but the troll flinches enough for him to dodge out of reach.

Bilbo starts running around the camp, dodging massive troll hands. He hears Bill shouting, "Kill it! Kill it!"

"You little – Gotcha!" The largest manages to snag him, holding him upside-down by his legs. "Are there any more of ya little fellas 'iding where you shouldn't?"

The hobbit shakes his head, "Nope."

"He's lying!" Bill growls. He said the same last time, but this time he actually knows it to be true.

Thorin yells, " **Khazâd ai-mênu**!"[2] The Company rushes out of the foliage, slicing at hamstrings and chopping at toes.

An arrow whizzes through the air, piercing the eye of the troll holding Bilbo. He throws the small creature at Nori, next to the pot, so he can pull the shaft out.

Bert picks Bilbo back up before he can escape the melee. After kicking several of the dwarrow back, he calls out, "Lay down your arms, or I tear his off!"

The Company backs up. Thorin is ready to drop Deathless when Bill calls out. "Don't let them surrender! Just kill them now!"

The large one knocks him on the back of the head. "It'll be easier ta kill 'em if they surrender, idiot!"

"You don't understand!" Bill wails. "If the burra'obbit starts talkin' about 'ow Bert should cook the dwarfs, we'll get turned ta stone again!"

The burglar, who has managed to slip one arm free, motions _"Wait!_ " at the dwarrow. Letting them argue until its closer to dawn is fine for their purposes.

"If 'e knows a fast way ta cook the dwarfs, I'll listen! We ain't got all night to sit around!" Bert yells, shaking Bilbo at Bill's face.

The hobbit, watching the Company, sees Nori hold up an empty pouch. "Actually, you should check on your broth. The ponies ran off just after you'd seasoned it, hadn't they? You should make sure it hasn't overcooked and will taste good with dwarf."

"Right," Bert agrees. "You two! Start baggin' up the meat!"

The big one opens each sack then ties them off when they're filled. Bill, in a rush, shoves the dwarves into the bags without stripping a thing off of them, including the weapons they silently sheathed while the trolls bickered.

Bert sets Bilbo down next to the pot. When he doesn't try to run off, the troll takes up his ladle and tastes his broth. "Oh, that's quite nice. Very well balanced. Come try this and see why I'm the cook!"

He holds the spoon out, letting both the other trolls try it as well. Once they're done, he has some more.

"Don't drink it all! Gimme some!" the larger troll demands.

Bill wrings his hands. "I don't like it. We should kill 'em now before they turn us ta stone."

"How about some dinner entertainment? I'll sing you one of my songs." Before any of the trolls can argue, Bilbo starts to sing.

 _"There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn_  
_beneath an old grey hill,_  
_And there they brew a beer so brown_  
_That the Man in the Moon himself came down_  
_One night to drink his fill._

 _"The 'ostler has a tipsy cat_  
_that plays a five-stringed fiddle;_  
_And up and down he runs his bow,_  
_Now squeaking high, now purring low,_  
_Now sawing in the middle."_

Bofur is rather fond of this song, and sings along with the first two verses since he's already memorised them in the past few weeks. Being in a sack doesn't seem to have dampened his spirit at all.

 _"Then the 'ostler said to his tipsy cat:_  
_'The white horses of the Moon,_  
_They neigh and champ their silver bits;_  
_But their master's been and drowned his wits,_  
_and the Sun'll be rising soon!'_

 _"So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_  
_a jig that would wake the dead:_  
_He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,_  
_While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:_  
_'It's after three!' he said."_

Really, the song is rather a bit longer than what the hobbit sings: he doesn't even introduce the dog, the cow, the silverware or the dishes. He decided to cut out a large swath in the middle when two of the trolls started fighting over the pot of broth. The troll who remembered before watches the hobbit singing with a look of confusion, his hands holding his head. Bilbo wonders if more than the moonflowers are working.

 _"The round Moon rolled behind the hill_  
_as the Sun raised up her head._  
_She hardly believed her fiery eyes;_  
_For though it was day, to her surprise_  
_they all went back to bed!"_

Gandalf climbs up onto a nearby boulder, proclaiming, "Dawn take you all!" When it splits down the middle, the sunlight turns the poisoned, confused, bickering trolls to stone.

Since he isn't actually tied up, Bilbo starts cutting out the dwarrow from their bags straight away. Those with knives on them start cutting themselves out as well. "That could have been much worse," he says to Thorin, who is the first released from the sacks.

"Yeah," Kíli pipes up. "You could have told them to skin us or claimed we had parasites or something!"

 

 

 

### Khuzdul Translations:

[1]"Damn!" - **[KLF]** = _to curse,_ imperative verb tense  
[2] "The Dwarves are upon you!" - **khazâd** = _dwarves;_ **ai-** from **aya** = _upon;_ **mênu** = _you,_ accusative plural (rude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, chapter title fixed!


	13. The Road Goes Ever On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sings. Also, Thorin pulls Kíli aside for a chat with his uncle(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have combined all the verses of The Old Walking Song (Roads Go Ever On/The Road Goes Ever On) from The Hobbit, The Fellowship of the Ring and The Return of the King. I have changed the lines "Roads go ever ever on" to "The Road goes ever on and on" for consistency in Bilbo's "final version," since this was the format of the song portions in The Lord of the Rings. I have also removed a reference to the month of June, as there is no June in the hobbit calendar (or any known calendar of Middle Earth).
> 
> Initially, I had completely rearranged the verses to be paired rhymes rather than alternating ones, but one reader directed me to look up [this song](https://youtu.be/D8YT5u878Lo) to change my mind. While it sadly only uses the portion from The Fellowship of the Ring (repeated in both sung verses), it did let me hear how the verses could work in song in their original arrangement. Therefore, I have removed the " _Blunt the Knives_ treatment" I had originally applied.

Thorin sends the Óin, Bifur, Bombur and Ori to collect the ponies. He hands Glóin a handful of leather pouches, and directs him to fill them with coin from the troll horde and hand a pouch out to each member of the Company. Glóin has Nori pack up a small chest of treasure, and Bofur and Dori dig out a hole to hide the chest in. Balin keeps an eye on Fíli and Kíli, while Dwalin keeps watch outside the troll cave. Gandalf takes the king deepest into the cavern, both emerging with their First Age Elvish weapons. Finally, Thorin presents Sting to Bilbo. "Strong, light and small enough for your hand: exactly what you asked for, Master Baggins."

The hobbit grins at his dwarf, attaching the blade to his belt. "Thank you, Master Oakenshield."

He presses his forehead against the burglar's for a moment. Once everyone is together again from their tasks, Thorin addresses them. "We have most of the week before we reach the far edge of this wood and the next river, and another week after that until we get to Rivendell. Since we are aiming to arrive by Midsummer Eve, by Master Baggin's original schedule, we need to keep moving today. Just let the ponies do the hard work, and we'll hopefully get some actual rest tonight."

They had taken the day to rest last time, but then were nearly caught by orcs later. They should have still been two days from Rivendell at the time, but between being chased and taking the back entrance in, they had arrived just in time to catch the moon runes. Even if they take the slightly longer way to the main entrance, being an extra day ahead of the orcs will be useful.

In order to keep himself aware, Bilbo decides to sing one of his walking songs. After a moment of deliberation, he chooses the older of the two, which he started writing on his way home from the Lonely Mountain in his first life.

 _"The Road goes ever on and on,_  
_Down from the door where it began._  
_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_  
_And I must follow, if I can,_

 _"Pursuing it with eager feet,_  
_Until it joins some larger way,_  
_Where many paths and errands meet._  
_And whither then? I cannot say."_

He remembers singing those verses to Frodo after the council of Elrond. His boys were in good company, though he'll admit to doubting Legolas in the beginning. Even though Thranduil had declared him elvellon, [1] the savage elves of Mirkwood still made him more wary than the serene ones found in Rivendell.

 _"The Road goes ever on and on,_  
_Over rock and under tree,_  
_By caves where never sun has shone,_  
_By streams that never find the sea;_

 _"Over snow by winter sown,_  
_And through the merry summer's bloom,_  
_Over grass and over stone,_  
_And under mountains in the moon."_

Those verses were about the actual travelling parts of this journey. He had written them on his way back to the Shire. He even included a hint about the damned secret door, since he went under the mountain by moonlight.

 _"The Road goes ever on and on,_  
_Under cloud and under star,_  
_Yet feet that wandering have gone_  
_Turn at last to home afar._

 _"Eyes that fire and sword have seen_  
_And horror in the halls of stone,_  
_Look at last on meadows green_  
_And trees and hills they long have known."_

Bilbo can't help but take a glance at Thorin during the verse about both Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies. The old dwarf looks guilty and saddened by the mention of all that happened in Erebor.

 _"The Road goes ever on and on,_  
_Out from the door where it began._  
_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_  
_Let others follow it who can!_

 _"Let them a journey new begin,_  
_But I at last with weary feet_  
_Will turn towards the lighted inn,_  
_My evening-rest and sleep to meet."_

The last verses he had sung to Frodo after he returned from Mordor. Hopefully his repose in Valinor provided him with the peace he so desperately needed after he returned from his own quest. Bilbo's mind had been a bit spotty at that point, and he had asked after the Ring. Disappointed as he was that it had been "lost," the mithril vest being gone was the sharper pain. Thankfully, Gandalf returned his last gift from the dwarf king shortly after.

"Did you write that song as well, Bilbo?" Bofur asks.

When he glances at the hatted dwarf, the hobbit sees the Company scribe scribbling the words down in one of his many small journals. "I did," he states simply. Before anyone can press about how he came to write such a song, Kíli suggests that he teach them all more of _The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late_. He flashes the lad a thankful grin before launching into the silly ballad.

Several of the Company end up taking naps in their saddles that afternoon. Bilbo nearly nods off a few times himself, but manages to stay awake and not test his somnolent riding skill. He mutters riddles under his breath for a while to keep his mind active. That night, everyone sleeps heavily, though watches continue as usual. The following evening, however, Thorin finally pulls Kíli aside, and Bilbo follows.

"You seemed to understand what Bilbo was telling me about the trolls the night before last," the king begins. His second heir shrugs a bit. "Don't shrug this off. I want to know what it meant to you."

Kíli sighs dramatically, as any tween might. "The same thing it must mean to the two of you! Ever since the night before Bag-End, I've had dreams about things that end up happening. Except the dreams are a little _off_ , aren't they? I dreamt that Bilbo didn't want to come with us, but then he came along the next morning anyway. Then when I met him, he looked so different, and came along with us, but he'd only been asked that morning. You said in my dream you got lost twice on the way to Bag-End, and it made you late, while Bilbo said that night you got lost twice on your way to Bag-End the first time you'd been there. Except you said you'd never been to the Shire when you came back from Bree the month before. We still sang 'Blunt the Knives' and 'The Song of the Lonely Mountain,' though I don't remember Bilbo having breakfast with us in the dream. We still had that horrid week of rain. I tried to scare Bilbo with stories of orc raids, and you still got mad at me for it, but Bilbo just glared at me for trying to frighten him. I remember being tied in a sack, arguing how I didn't have parasites, until you kicked me, then claimed to have the biggest parasites of all. But, mostly, I dream about a red-haired elf saving me from giant spiders, comforting me even though she is my jailor, healing me, and battling together."

Thorin's brow furrows. "Elf?"

"Her name is Tauriel. She's a captain in Thraduil's guard," Bilbo provides as he moves up to the king's side. "Thorin and I recall everything quite clearly, not just pieces in dreams, which is a large part of why your dreams don't match what ends up happening."

"The two weeks before I reached Bag End, it was more dreamlike than clear memory for me," the older dwarf interjects, "and all of my dreams revolved around you. Everything crystallised when our eyes first met again, **ghivashel**. [2]

"Really?" The hobbit is clearly surprised by this. "For me, it was going to sleep at the end of my life, then waking up fifty again. Anyway, Thorin first came to Bag-End to lead his Company on a journey to reclaim Erebor from the dragon Smaug, a quest which was ultimately successful, but cost him his life."

"And mine, and Fíli's?"

"Yes."

Thorin moans as if in pain. "Both of them died? I knew about Fíli, but I had hoped Kíli survived."

"I hoped you survived as well, Uncle," the younger dwarf responds. After considering a moment, he speaks again. "I only dream about things up to a week before they happen, except for dreams about Tauriel. She was there when Bolg killed me, fighting at my side."

Bilbo nods, and considers. "I left the Lonely Mountain the next day. I lived on, alone, until I adopted an orphaned cousin at ninety-nine. I finally died at age eleventy-one and twenty, a bit less than eighty and a half years from now. I remember very little of my life between my return to Bag-End, which happened about a year from now, and when I adopted my boy, Frodo, but that was true even before I came back. Perhaps it was easier for me, since I died of old age in my sleep." He thinks a moment. "Since Thorin's memory cleared when we reunited, perhaps it will be the same for you when we meet Tauriel again. She didn't know you long, but she was in love with you. I think you loved her as well, which is why she had your rune-stone." The dwarf king groans again, but the hobbit smacks his arm. "You have no room to complain, you fell in love with a hobbit!"

Thorin wraps his arms around his burglar's waist. "You are more worthy of a dwarf's love than any twenty elves."

Bilbo hums, "Then I suppose it is good I only know of two dwarrow who dared fall for elves!"

"Oh? Who's the other?" Kíli asks, brimming with curiosity.

Bilbo smirks. "Gimli Glóinul."

 

 

 

 

 

### Sindarin Translation:

[1] elf-friend - ell = elf; mellon = friend.

### Khuzdul Translation:

[2] treasure of treasures - [GhVSh] = treasure, title noun form; -el = the ultimate or greatest of all (presumably).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ghivashel** is from an older version of Neo-Khuzdul, which Dwarrow Scholar had relegated to Blue Mountain dialect (BMK). However I do not have a copy of the older documents, I picked up this word from other fanfics. In the version of Neo-Khuzdul I have now, which is considered Classic Khuzdul (CK) for dialect purposes, one would use the term **'ugbash** _[GBSh]_ or **'ubnan** _[BNN]_ to get the same meaning. I've seen "bunnel" being used, but the -el suffix doesn't exist in the latest documents. " **Bilbo 'ubnanul sullu bunn** ," would translate to _"Bilbo is the greatest (hidden) treasure of all (hidden) treasures,_ " but the -ul suffix on the elative term is only used in adjectives, not nouns. Since this term is from BMK rather than CK, it is more informal than 'ugbash or **gibashê** ( _my treasure_ as a title). If Dain were to hear Thorin call Bilbo ghivashel, he would likely assume he means gibashê or **gibashul** ( _originating from treasure_ or _part of the treasure_ ), which has a close enough gist not to quibble over.
> 
> I'm still convinced that DS made the [BNN] radical so that Thorin could call Bilbo **bunnê** ( _my treasure_ as an incarnate) as an endearment. As a matter of fact, I despise the [BNN] radical for being set up for bunny puns, and refuse to use it this way.


End file.
